


Rain

by jaeger_delta (deltasierra)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Blood, Brain Surgery, Brainwashing, Cages, Chains, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Disability, Discipline, Drift Compatibility, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Family Secrets, Forced Prostitution, Guns, Human Trafficking, Hypnosis, M/M, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Multi, Obedience, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychic Abilities, Puppy Play, Rape Recovery, Repressed Memories, Sex Work, Sexual Abuse, Solitary Confinement, Spanking, Stabbing, Substance Abuse, Therapy, Torture, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:23:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 192,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltasierra/pseuds/jaeger_delta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On his 23rd birthday, Raleigh receives a gift from Yancy: a chained boy in a cage, named Chuck. Raleigh quickly realizes something is very wrong. Chuck's past is a tangled web of lies and abuse, caught up in the plans of people richer and more powerful than himself. As Chuck's story unfolds, the lives of many are drawn together and torn apart, leaving them forever changed. Chuck, having been robbed of all of his agency and freedom in the past, and fighting hard to gain it back, will ultimately find himself having to make the hardest choice of all.</p><p>Rain is a complex, alternating POV story about how no matter how much we have been broken, we can heal, even if we will never be the same; about finding answers in the past, finding safety in the present and finding purpose in the future. About how much of our lives is our own choice, and how much is fate; and how it can sometimes be both.</p><p>The story is not planned out in detail. I may add archive warnings, pairings and tags as it develops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, um, yes. This started as a fun innocent prompt in my head and then turned into something much, much darker. Major warning for dubcon in this chapter and the given archive warnings for future chapters.
> 
> I always take much joy in writing fun, consensual porn, but when this got stuck in my head it begged to be written. 
> 
> I also apologise for turning some heroes into villains. They might yet redeem themselves, however.
> 
> Lastly, Mako is five years older than in canon (i.e. Raleigh's age.)
> 
> Un-beta'd.

_December 11th, 2021._

 

**Scene 1 - Raleigh**

“ _Happy 23rd Birthday, Rals._

_Sorry I couldn’t be there in person. A few business deals to tie up in Chicago. Here’s something to keep you busy ‘till I come back for the holidays._

_Love,_

_Yancy”_

 

Raleigh frowned at the card and placed it on his desk, then planted his hands on his hips and stared at the huge box that three members of the house staff had just delivered. It was obviously heavy, since they needed three people to carry the thing. What the hell did Yancy send him?

 

There were holes poked into the wrapping at the top. And was he just imagining things or did it make _noise_? He leaned in closer. It definitely sounded like… some kind of wheezing. Maybe Yancy got him a dog. Would be a pretty big one and not as cute as a puppy, though.

 

Still, a dog would be pretty awesome. The mansion was huge and lonely without Yancy around. He could take the mutt for long walks around the estate, teach it several tricks. Hell, it’d probably be better at fetching stuff than some of the maids.

 

No longer able to contain his curiosity, Raleigh tore at the wrapping paper, yanking it off with a few big swings.

 

It wasn’t a box underneath the wrapping paper. It was a cage, the bottom panel solid and the other five sides made out of sturdy metal bars.

 

It also wasn’t a dog inside. It was a _person_. A boy. Almost entirely naked, save for the shackles around his wrists and ankles, the gag in his mouth, the blindfold on his eyes. And a collar around his neck. He was conscious and calm, though shivering.

 

Raleigh blinked once, twice. Looked around the room, then dove for the curtains and the doors, closing them in a rush, then flicked on the lights in the room.

 

What the fuck was Yancy thinking? Sending him a boy in a cage? Sure, Raleigh had developed some weird tastes over the years that Yancy knew about, but…

 

He leaned in closer. There was a name tag on the collar.

 

_Chuck_.

 

“Chuck?” Raleigh ventured.

 

The boy sat up as much as he could, clearly responding to his name.

 

Raleigh reached inside the cage and undid the boy’s gag and blindfold. And wow, those eyes. Gazing at him with something he couldn’t place. Perhaps gratitude, but somehow, laced with anger and frustration. Raleigh sat down on one knee in front of the cage.

 

“Chuck, I don’t know what my brother was thinking, but --” Raleigh started.

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Chuck mumbled. His voice was low and a little raw, like he hadn’t spoken in a long time. Just how long had the kid been in the cage? “I can’t speak to you further until you read the warranty.”

 

The _warranty_?

 

Chuck leaned forward. “It’s on the collar, sir.”

 

Raleigh noticed a cylinder hanging off the collar, reached for it and unhooked it from the leather band. He popped it open in his hands and fished out a rolled-up piece of paper. Along with the paper, a small key slid out into the palm of his hand.

 

Chuck shuffled and cast his eyes downward, waiting for Raleigh to read.

 

Raleigh unrolled the paper and his eyebrows slowly went up in bafflement as his eyes ran over each line.

 

“ _Good day, sir/madam,_

 

_You are now the proud owner of a well-trained PPDC pet! The Pacific Pet Discipline Club hopes you will enjoy your purchase._

 

_Your pet’s name is Chuck. He was born on August 14, 2003 and is a purebred Australian with a ginger coat._

 

_Your pet has successfully completed the PPDC’s hallmark training and health program. He is fully housebroken and in excellent health._

 

_Your pet will obey all of your commands and attempt to meet all of your needs. Should you be dissatisfied with your purchase, please contact your PPDC sales representative and present this document as your warranty._

 

_Regards,_

 

_Mako Mori_

_PPDC Sales Executive Officer”_

 

Raleigh dropped the note, sending it fluttering towards the floor. So the boy in the cage was 18 years old. And… trained as a pet. Whatever the hell that meant—though he could guess. Geez, Yancy.

 

“Chuck,” he repeated, meeting the boy’s eyes.

 

“Yes, sir,” Chuck replied frankly. Somehow, he seemed more at ease now that Raleigh had read the warranty.

 

“I… I’m going to open the cage,” Raleigh stammered. He had no idea what he was going to do with the boy, though he was pretty sure he was going to smack Yancy upside the head for this twisted idea of a birthday present. Sure, their family had made their money with shady business in the past, but buying people as if they were animals had never been one of them.

 

“Yes, sir,” Chuck simply replied, shuffling back in the cage a little.

 

Raleigh used the small key from the collar to unlock the cage. It occurred to him that if the key had been on his neck this whole time, couldn’t Chuck have freed himself?

 

But when he opened the cage door, Chuck stayed in his place, looking up at Raleigh expectantly.

 

“Uh… you can get out,” Raleigh hazarded. He felt weird telling this boy what to do, even though his whole pampered life he’d grown pretty comfortable giving people orders.

 

Chuck crawled out of the cage, and Raleigh noticed him wincing.

 

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” Raleigh said, sitting down on one knee again, worried. Before Chuck could answer, Raleigh tried the key on the shackles and was pleasantly surprised it worked. The metal restraints dropped from Chuck’s wrists. He grabbed Chuck’s legs, pulling them forward, and undid the shackles there as well.

 

“Thank you, sir,” Chuck smiled, and before Raleigh even processed the weird warm feeling that dimpled smile lit up in his chest, Chuck had crawled towards him and was nuzzling his knee. Raleigh stumbled backwards into his desk, which was huge and made of solid mahogany and wasn’t going to move any time soon.

 

“Ah, uh…” Raleigh stammered. He had no idea what to do in this situation. Call Yancy? Call the sales representative? But if he returned Chuck, he’d just be sold to someone else.

 

Chuck crawled towards him again, looking up expectantly, and then Chuck slid his hands up Raleigh’s thighs. “Allow me to express my gratitude, sir,” Chuck said.

 

“Wh-what?” Raleigh stuttered, still overwhelmed, and then Chuck’s hands were on his crotch and undoing his belt and zipper and _what_. Raleigh’s hands pushed at Chuck’s shoulders, shoving him away. “Wait, wait!”

 

Chuck paused, and Raleigh could swear the boy looked disappointed.

 

“You don’t have to do this,” Raleigh said.

 

Chuck leaned forward. “Please, sir,” he said, his hands working at Raleigh’s zipper again. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

 

Raleigh cursed the fierce heat that shot southward when he felt Chuck’s hands on his dick. No, nope, this wasn’t okay at all. But Chuck was faster and determined whilst Raleigh was confused and overwhelmed and before he could form a proper response, Chuck had taken Raleigh’s dick out, wrapped his hand around the base and when Raleigh felt Chuck’s tongue swirl around the head all he could do was groan.

 

Chuck’s lips parted, his mouth sucked in Raleigh’s still half-hard dick and Raleigh braced himself against the desk for how fast the blood rushed to his cock.

 

“Chuck, you don’t have to—” he stammered again, but his hands refused to move to push the boy off him and his mind was reeling.

 

Chuck’s other hand cupped Raleigh’s balls whilst his mouth sank further down on Raleigh’s dick, all wet and hot and so deep, and when he dared to look down he saw Chuck looking up at him intently. And Raleigh wasn’t sure what he saw in those eyes but now he couldn’t look away. Something of a smirk formed on Chuck’s face and the boy took Raleigh in even further until he felt Chuck’s tongue against the base of his cock and then he couldn’t control himself anymore. Raleigh’s hands flew into Chuck’s hair and his hips bucked up into Chuck’s mouth with sharp, needy thrusts.

 

And Chuck _sucked_ , so hard his cheeks hollowed out, his throat relaxing around Raleigh and saliva dripping from his lips, his head bobbing up and down so fast he made wet, slippery sounds and all Raleigh could do was _let him_ , completely overtaken, hips jerking forward, panting and moaning.

 

Raleigh’s climax built up so fast he came before he could pull out of Chuck’s mouth, not even sure the boy would’ve let him, and he shivered when he felt Chuck’s throat convulse, swallowing his come right away.

 

When Chuck pulled off and sat back with a look Raleigh could only describe as _satisfied_ , he sagged down on the floor with his back against the desk.

 

Chuck crawled forward and nuzzled his knee again. “Master,” he said with a smile.

 

“Wh… what happened to calling me sir,” Raleigh sighed.

 

“You fed me, and now you are my master,” Chuck stated simply, curling up at Raleigh’s feet, licking his lips. Raleigh could swear there was a naughty glint in Chuck’s eyes.

 

What the hell was he going to do with this kid?

 

Fucking hell, Yance.

 

As soon as Raleigh found himself able to stand up again, he reached for his cellphone. He dialed Yancy’s number and out of the corner of his eye observed Chuck, who had curled up on the soft carpet at the center of the room.

 

“ _Rals? Can you wait? I’m in a meeting.”_

 

“I don’t care if you’re meeting the goddamn president, Yance. Why the hell is there a naked guy in my room? What the fuck were you thinking?” Raleigh paced back and forth, trying to keep his voice low. Somehow he worried about Chuck being hurt over what he said.

 

“ _Ah, you got your present! You like?”_

 

“He was shackled in a cage. He’s freaking _eighteen_. He’s got this manual that says he’s a _pet—_ ”

 

“ _Yeah, listen, just enjoy it! It’s all yours. I’ll explain more when I get back next week.”_

 

Something about Yancy’s tone told Raleigh he wasn’t getting the full scoop on this. He looked at Chuck again, whose eyes were following him around the room, and when their eyes met the boy licked his lips again with a tempting smile.

 

“Yance, seriously, I can’t—”

 

“ _Gotta go, Rals.”_

 

And Yancy hung up on him. Raleigh grumbled, switched off his phone and walked back to Chuck.

 

“So, uh… I guess you’re staying,” Raleigh mumbled, furrowing his brow.

 

Chuck practically leapt towards him, rubbing his head against Raleigh’s thighs. “I’m so glad you’re not sending me away, master,” he purred.

 

Raleigh couldn’t help himself, rested his hands on Chuck’s shoulders. “You are? Really? But you don’t have to—”

 

“I want to,” Chuck replied, looking up at Raleigh, pleading. “You are a nice master. Kind, and young, and handsome. I…” Chuck hesitated, then didn’t finish what he was going to say.

 

Raleigh cursed the warm, tight feeling in chest that bloomed up at Chuck’s praise. Raleigh could figure, though. Maybe things could have been worse for Chuck. He hazarded to think what Chuck’s ‘training’ even meant. For now, he would just take care of the boy until he could talk to Yancy and figure out what the hell was going on. And try very hard not to think about how it felt to have Chuck’s wet lips wrap around his dick, Chuck’s throat press against him—

 

“Okay, well, let’s… I’ll find you a room and some clothes,” Raleigh began, but Chuck let out a whine.

 

“I want to stay with you, master,” Chuck whimpered. He curled up to the floor, hands on Raleigh’s feet, nuzzling them.

 

“In… my room?” Raleigh stuttered. “Um…” He’d have to ask Tendo change some of the staff’s shifts around, and order them not to just come into his room, and—why was he seriously considering this?

 

“Please, master,” Chuck said, looking up at him, almost teary-eyed. “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

 

Christ, he couldn’t ignore a plea like that. “Okay, okay, you can sleep in my bedroom,” he said. “But I am going to find you some clothes. You’ll catch a cold like that.”

 

Chuck’s head bumped against his knees again. “Thank you, master,” he breathed, and he actually seemed relieved.

 

Somehow, he managed to sneak Chuck past the mansion’s staff and up into his room. It didn’t help that Chuck refused to stand up on two legs and instead crawled after Raleigh on hands and knees.

 

Raleigh’s room actually consisted of four rooms: a bedroom, a bathroom, a study and a living room. Five, if you counted the very spacious closet. At least Chuck wouldn’t have to be bored staying in there. There was a small library in the study and television and videogames in the living room.

 

Chuck obediently followed Raleigh around as he explained the layout of the rooms and what Chuck could and couldn’t touch. When they got to the bedroom, Chuck laid a hand on the bed and let out a small bark.

 

He _barked_. Raleigh didn’t know what to do with that information at all. But he understood what Chuck wanted, even though the boy could have just used words.

 

“Yes, you can sit on the bed,” Raleigh said with a smile. Damn, he was already treating the boy like a pet. It was difficult not to, Chuck made it so easy, almost natural.

 

Chuck climbed onto the bed and curled up at the foot board. “Thank you, master,” he smiled.

 

Raleigh went to dig through his sizable closet room, and came out carrying a pile of clothes which he laid down on the bed. “This is some of my old stuff,” Raleigh said. “It might be a bit too big for you, but for now it’ll do. I’ll get you some fitted clothes tomorrow.”

 

Chuck’s eyes went big and he stared at the clothes. “Which ones do I put on, master?”

 

He was going to have to tell Chuck what to wear, too? This was getting really weird. Raleigh sifted through the pile and pulled out a shirt, slacks and a pair of boxers, and held them out to Chuck. “These?”

 

A huge grin formed on Chuck’s face and there were those delicious dimples again. “Underwear, sir!?” It seemed to amuse him enormously.

 

“You… don’t do underwear?” Raleigh ventured.

 

And Chuck _laughed_. Out loud. It was a wonderful sound and it made him look beautiful and made Raleigh want to kiss him, really badly. Chuck caught his gaze and his smile took on an entirely different tone, his lips curving up sensuously.

 

“Do you want me to put these on _now_ , master?” Chuck said pointedly, leaning forward.

 

“Er, um, yeah—” Raleigh mumbled, but dammit if he didn’t feel heat tingle in his skin with the way Chuck was looking at him. Chuck crawled further towards him and Raleigh kind of leaned back trying not to give in and somehow ended up lying on his back and Chuck straddling him, which isn’t what he’d been aiming to accomplish at all. Or, maybe it was, a little.

 

“Are you _sure_ , master?” Chuck grinned, and rolled his ass down in a smooth, round movement. And undoubtedly feeling Raleigh’s stiffening cock underneath. Fuck, the boy was just unabashedly seducing him, and Raleigh found it real difficult to resist. He didn’t want to use Chuck like some kind of sex slave or whatever he was supposed to be, but it was tough to deny how Chuck was writhing his lithe body on top of him, unrestrained, seemingly doing so out of free will.

 

Raleigh sat up a little. “Is… is this what you really want, Chuck?” He was going to hate himself for asking if Chuck said no, but he had to know. He couldn’t do this otherwise. He wasn’t going to freaking rape the kid.

 

Chuck pressed his body down tightly to Raleigh’s, and rutted his own erection into Raleigh’s lower abdomen. “Oh yes, master,” Chuck said with a sly, seductive smile. Then he bent even closer, until his lips brushed against Raleigh’s ear, and spoke in a low, thick voice that was much hoarser than anything Raleigh had heard come out of him.

 

“There are so many filthy things I want you to do to me. But right now, I am your hungry little _pet_ , and I need you to _fuck_ me and fill me up with your come… _master_.”

 

Raleigh only barely registered how Chuck’s aggressive, almost sarcastic tone was completely mismatched with his submissive words, before those words went straight to his dick anyway. Raleigh grunted, flipped them over and tore at his own shirt and pants and boxers until he was naked. Chuck laid back with a smirk, opening his legs wide as Raleigh hurriedly reached for the lube he kept in his nightstand.

 

When he pressed in a slicked up finger he noticed how loose the boy was and halted, drawn out of his haze by what this meant. Chuck cursed, hands digging into Raleigh’s shoulders, trying to yank him up. “I’m good, _master_ ,” he growled. “ _Fuck_ me already.”

 

Fuck, none of this was right. Chuck’s shift in attitude was starting to set off alarm bells in Raleigh’s head, and he stopped, sitting back on the bed. “No,” he breathed. “You’re not okay with this at all, are you?”

 

Chuck sat up and flung himself towards Raleigh, pushing him down, hands grabbing at Raleigh’s cock. “Come on, master, you want this,” Chuck hissed, but Raleigh saw the spooked look in the boy’s eyes and pushed Chuck away again.

 

“Knock it off, dammit!” Raleigh shouted, and he jumped off the bed, scrambling to put his pants back on.

 

And Chuck just sat there, looking at him, his eyes panicked and his chest heaving. Raleigh buried his face in his hands. What the hell was he thinking? This kid arrived naked and chained in a cage with a letter of how he’s been ‘trained’, calling him master, ass loose and everything. Fuck, who knows what the kid’s been through? And he was about to—shit. Raleigh felt like he was gonna throw up or something.

 

Eventually, he looked up at Chuck, who had sagged down onto the bed, rolled up into a ball with his back to Raleigh.

 

Raleigh picked up the clothes he chose before and tapped Chuck’s shoulder. “Here. Put these on,” he said. Chuck sat up, took the shirt and pants, and put them on, not saying a word. He left the boxers in Raleigh’s hands.

 

Raleigh sat down on the bed and slung an arm around Chuck. “Look… I’m not…” Raleigh shook his head, unsure of what to say. “You’re… safe, here, okay? You don’t have to—if you want, I can get you your own room after all—”

 

And at that, Chuck whined again. “No,” he whispered.

 

Raleigh nodded. “Okay.” And there was the uncomfortable pause. Chuck fidgeted next to Raleigh, his body gradually tensing up until he was shaking all over, and Raleigh pulled him in closer, rubbing his hand up and down Chuck’s upper arm in an attempt to comfort him. “Look… can I get you something to eat, maybe?”

 

“Y-yeah,” Chuck stammered.

 

“Alright, I’ll go fetch something from the kitchen,” Raleigh said, getting off the bed. “Just… stay here, okay?”

 

Chuck nodded, his fingers nervously twisting at the hem of his shirt, then climbing back on the bed and curling up again.

 

When Raleigh came back with food, Chuck was fast asleep. He walked up to the bed and sighed. Chuck looked… so young and peaceful, this way. He reached out to stroke Chuck’s hair, but stopped before his fingers touched the boy’s head. He didn’t want to frighten or disturb Chuck in his slumber.

 

He’d have to talk to Tendo Choi—the Chief of Staff of their considerable household and loyal to the wealthy and influential Becket family, nothing happened in the mansion without him knowing about it. Raleigh was pretty sure he couldn’t hide a whole person in his room forever. Hell, Tendo probably already knew, and Raleigh was going to need his help. If word of Chuck’s presence made it to the press, it would be disastrous.

 

Whatever the kid had been through, he was going to make sure Chuck was okay, now. And probably punch the fuck out of Yancy for even thinking this was remotely acceptable.

 

He also tried very much not to think of the aching pressure in his groin, and how badly Chuck’s words had affected him, how much his hands longed to feel the curve of Chuck’s thighs and ass, how much he wanted to have Chuck underneath him, writhing and sweating and moaning his name.

 

He should’ve pushed Chuck away from the start, when the boy’s mouth had wrapped around his dick, and now he felt nauseating guilt welling up in the pit of his stomach. He tried to tell himself the boy had overwhelmed him, but… he’d wanted it, hadn’t he? He’d just assumed Chuck was okay with it. Wanted to feel the wet heat of Chuck’s curved, pretty mouth around him. The sweet pressure of the kid’s throat...

 

Raleigh groaned, feeling himself growing hard again, and decided he really needed a cold shower. Or a really hot one. He suspected his hands were going to get a lot of practice at jacking off as long as Chuck was in the house. No way he was going to just… use the boy for his own pleasure. Not until he knew totally sure it’s what Chuck wanted. And right now, all Raleigh was sure of was that Chuck didn’t know what he wanted at all.

 

* * *

 

_September 14th, 2019._

 

**Scene 2 - Herc**

 

Chuck was safe. That’s all that mattered, Herc told himself, sitting in the CEO’s chair of the Lucky Seven casino in Sydney. His favorite gun on the desk, a meticulously cleaned and polished Desert Eagle, the Hansen family sigil carved into its handle. That sigil used to mean something. But… he fucked it up. More or less. They screwed him over, he knew. He shouldn’t have struck a deal with Hannibal Chau. Knew the guy was bad news the moment he strutted into the office, gold-plated shoes, waving his butterfly knife around, that grin on his dog-like face. He looked ridiculous, like a man who’d fallen into a huge pile of money and couldn’t wait to find new stupid ways to spend it.

  
Herc Hansen was a self-made man too, but he had class. Well, Angela was the one with class, and they were a good match. They had a legal casino with some slightly less legal dealings here and there, but it was all clean, no violence, no sex. A little money laundering here and there, maybe. And when Hannibal Chau entered the picture, they’d looked down on him. Underestimated him. Thought they could play him, and they got played.

 

They figured Chau wanted to move guns, which was lucrative as hell and risky as fuck, but it was a good opportunity. Herc had needed the cash. But the shipment hadn’t been guns. Turns out, Chau trafficked organs, some real nasty shit, and got the Hansen to take the fall. Herc and Angela had to call in every favor they had, cough up every penny they could spare, and it still hadn’t been enough. So now they owed Hannibal Chau a dozen million bucks.

 

Hannibal Chau was a very, very clever man. Shrewd. And merciless.

 

No violence, Angela had said. Violence is for thugs. We can handle this in a civilized way. So she went to Chau to negotiate.

 

Herc had gotten her back in a body bag. To Hannibal’s credit, at least, the kill had been clean. Throat slit, bled out, no other marks on her body. She was holding a picture of Chuck. The message was clear: pay up, or the boy’s next.

 

Herc glanced at the bag of money, the only other item on his desk. Three million in cash. Enough to pacify Hannibal, for now. Enough to keep Chuck safe.

 

Stacker Pentecost and him had had a falling out when Herc found out just what kind of business his old army buddy was up to. He didn’t care if Stacker was calling ‘em companions or pets or whatever. Back where Herc’s from, that shit was still called a prostitution ring, and making money selling other people’s bodies was dirty as fuck.

 

Of course, Lucky Seven was hardly the cleanest business on the planet. Affluent clients had been allowed to relocate their assets, for a fair price. But it wasn’t dirty. It wasn’t the goddamn sex trade, basically.

 

But now, Stacker was the only one who could keep Chuck out of Hannibal’s hands. Had promised Herc. Sworn nothing would happen to the kid. For fuck’s sake, the boy was one month past 16 years of age. Stacker would take care of Chuck, keep him safe, and in return provide Herc with the means to keep Hannibal off his back. That was the deal.

 

Herc gritted his teeth. He’d fucking sold his own son, hadn’t he?

 

The doors to the office busted open, two of Hannibal’s fiercest bodyguards stomping inside. Clawtooth and Scissure, by the looks of it. Terrible faces to match their terrible names, body mods all over, one guy with teeth prostheses: long, sharp fangs that went down his chin, and the other with patterned scars carved into his skin. Fucking mental.

 

Hannibal wasn’t far behind, shoes clacking loudly on the hardwood floor. Herc took a real deep breath, eyes flicking towards the gun. Didn’t pick it up. Best not to aggravate Chau.

 

Hannibal swaggered into the office, butterfly knife spinning in his hand, and went up to the desk. Herc spotted specks of blood on the knife, and frowned. “My guards were told to let you in,” he growled.

 

“ _Relax_ , Hercules,” Hannibal grinned. “Had to take a few souvenirs, is all.” He fished a ziploc bag out of his coat and proudly held up a collection of cut off fingertips. Right, the fucker had a thing for appendages. Herc’s nostrils flared and his nails dug into the leather fabric of the chair.

 

“I see you got my money,” Hannibal said, pulling at the bag and peering inside. He cast a look towards Scissure. “You take this to Newt, get that shit verified.” The gigantic, scarred man stepped forward and lifted the bag off Herc’s desk. Then Hannibal bent towards Herc, and planted his knife into the wood of Herc’s desk. Great. “Anything missing or fake, maybe I’ll take a souvenir of you next, Hercules.” And laughed. Loud and obnoxious. Herc sighed.

 

Once his guards had confirmed Hannibal and his cronies had truly left the building and the security sweep of his office and private quarters were done, Herc retired to his bedroom and grabbed a phone. Secure line, of course. Never know who else was waiting to screw him over. Lots of people, probably.

 

After a few rings and an odd series of noises, which Herc figured was an encryption signal, Stacker’s voice came through, tinny and crackling. “ _Herc.”_

 

“Deal with Hannibal’s done,” Herc said. “How’s the boy?”

 

“ _Adjusting.”_

 

What the fuck did that mean? “I swear to god, Stacker, if you—”

 

“ _I lent you three million dollars, Herc. That kind of money doesn’t grow on trees.”_

 

“The hell are you saying?” Herc growled, a low panic mingled with rage starting to brim in his gut.

 

“ _I’m saying the boy needs to earn his keep. I’m taking care of him, Herc. Got my finest working with him.”_

 

Herc was trembling, anger and terror shooting through him, and he clenched his fists so tight the blood drained from them. His fucking boy. They were putting their hands and god knows what fucking else on his kid. Forget Hannibal. The second he got out of this mess, he knew who was at the top of his kill list. “Stacker,” he growled, his voice almost feral.

 

“ _Calm down,_ ” Stacker’s voice came through, loud and commanding. “ _The PPDC is a top-class_ _organization_ _with clubs all over the world. We have strict screening procedures for our patrons—”_

 

“Bullshit!” Herc shouted, and unable to keep his rage inside any longer, flung his phone through the room. It smacked into the wall, screen shattering and battery shorting out. Fury filled his body and red and black flecks were dancing in his vision. He threw everything he could get his hands on at the wall and when there was nothing left, he pounded his own fists into the plaster until they bled.

 

And what tore at him more than anything was that he could fucking yell at Stacker all he wanted, could punch the wall until his hands were gone, and it was still his own fault. He’d taken Chau’s gun deal. He’d allowed Angela to go over to Chau’s headquarters without protection. He’d sold Chuck to the PPDC. He was the worst fucking father in the history of fathers.

 

Hands bleeding, Herc fell to his knees and screamed.

 

**Scene 3 - Chuck**

 

The door opened with a slight creak, and the young woman who’d introduced herself as Mako Mori -- “Address me as Miss Mori, Chuck” -- gestured for Chuck to go inside with a sweep of her arms.

 

It didn’t look half bad, Chuck decided. Clean. Nothing too fancy. Mostly like an average hotel room. Not a double bed, but a single that was a bit bigger that standard size. Flat-screen TV, bathroom. No windows. No closet. His clothes would be provided for him on a daily basis, Mako had explained.

 

“Looks decent. For a prison,” Chuck said, scoffing. He turned around to face Mako. He was already bigger and taller than her, even at barely 16 years old. But underestimating her was a mistake he’d made exactly once, and the bruises were fresh on his arms, his ribs still aching. Her grip had been pure steel. She moved like a sword, fast, lethal. The red locks in her hair the color of blood.

  
He knew why he was here. His father had explained it was to keep him safe from Hannibal Chau, but Chuck wasn’t stupid. He’d been sold to Pentecost for his dad to be able to pay off his debts. And maybe Herc hadn’t realized what Pentecost would do with Chuck, but Chuck didn’t care. His father had betrayed him, abandoned him, pawned him off to a goddamn pimp like he was goods to be traded, nothing more. His father could fuck right off. He’d find a way out of this place himself somehow and get the hell out of LA.

 

“You are not a prisoner here,” Mako replied in an even voice, betraying not a shred of emotion.

 

“Oh, you’re gonna let me walk outta here, then?” Chuck snapped at her, clenching a fist at his side.

 

“Eventually,” Mako said. Her glance drifted down his body and back up. “If you do well enough, you’ll be provided with every comfort you wish.”

 

“That’s nice,” Chuck grimaced. “Like a trained dog, rewarded for good behavior. Fuck you.”

 

Mako showed no sign of being affected by Chuck’s verbal aggression. “The price of your freedom is three million dollars,” she stated. “Plus interest.”

 

“That’s fucking A,” Chuck said, walking further into the room. “You think I’m an idiot? That I don’t know what you do here?” He gritted his teeth, willing himself to be angry. The alternative was less appealing. They’d stripped him of everything he owned, including his clothes. Now all he was wearing was a bathrobe. He didn’t want to think about what else they would take, what they would want him to give.

 

At least the room was comfortably warm.

 

“Rest,” Mako said. “I’ll come for you later.” And with that, she spun around and closed the door behind her. Chuck heard the lock clicking place and sighed.

 

So this was it, then. He sagged down on the bed and quickly climbed under the covers. And then he noticed there were no clocks in the room. Flicked on the TV, and found no time indicators, either. And there were no windows.

  
He buried his face in the pillow, trying hard to push back the tears, the sickening feeling that was welling up in his throat. This place was fucked up. Everything was fucked up.

 

Unable to hold it in any longer, Chuck curled up on the bed, under the duvet, and cried. The sobs started slow, but as the pain and fear broke out they turned into loud cries that racked through his whole body, blacking out his vision, and he cried until his body couldn’t anymore, until his head felt like it was going to explode. And even then, it wasn’t enough.

  


**Scene 4 - Mako**

 

The boy was interesting. Very pretty. The unconscious grace inherent his movements would be an asset to his work. If they could get him to do it.

 

Mako stepped into Stacker Pentecost’s office, and her _sensei_ rose from his seat as she bowed towards him, taking care to bring her head below his.

 

“Miss Mori,” sensei began, walking around his desk and approaching Mako. “How fares our latest addition to the family?”

 

Mako glanced at the clipboard she was holding. Sensei was not going to like her conclusion. “He is difficult,” she replied. “But emotional and young, which will make it easy for us to manipulate him.”

 

“As I expected, then,” he replied. “He is Herc’s kid, after all.”

 

Mako pursed her lips. She absolutely deferred to Stacker-sensei, but that did not mean she had to agree.

 

She was five years old when he had rescued her. Her house burnt down, her family killed. She had been wandering the streets of Edogawa, alone and crying, when an old, fat woman had found her. Onibaba, she had called herself. Took Mako with her, promised she would be safe. But Onibaba ran a whorehouse at the edges of the Ginza prefecture, where the respectable geisha houses used to be before Japan’s age of disaster began in the 2000s. At first, Mako simply had to clean and cook and do chores, something she easily took to despite her young age. The Mori family were renowned swordmakers, tracing their history all the way back to the Edo period, and her father had instilled in his children the same discipline he applied to forging blades.

 

But when Mako had her first period when she was twelve years old, Onibaba had declared her a woman, and three days later a large, hairy, sweaty man had pressed down on her, pushing her legs apart. And then his blood had sprayed over her small, trembling body and his severed head had landed beside her with a sick thud.

 

In front of her stood the tallest, darkest, most impressive man she’d ever seen, katana in hand. And he had taken her with him. Then, she had thought him a hero. She still did, but _sensei_ had not struck down Onibaba out of a sense of justice. He belonged to a rival brothel, a larger and wealthier one. Arguably, Onibaba’s girls and boys would be better off in lush rooms instead of dirty shacks, well-fed and cleaned. It was what it was.

 

But sensei had taken to the small, strong Mako, not crying a single tear as the blue sheets around her slowly stained red from her would-be rapist’s blood.

 

It seemed counter-intuitive, to run the Pacific Pet Discipline Club together with sensei, now. Were they not putting people through the same horrors that Mako had suffered? No—they took them in, off the streets, away from a life rife with drugs and disease. The Club trained their pets to be perfect companions with many talents, and thoroughly screened their patrons.

 

But Herc Hansen would have none of it. He had once been sensei’ s closest, most valued friend. Their friendship had suffered under sensei’s choice of business. And now that sensei had decided to train Chuck for the club, their bond would shatter entirely. It was a sad thing. But sensei was a practical, disciplined man. Three million was no small amount of money. Chuck was an investment, and sensei wanted to make good use of him.

 

“What approach do you advise, Miss Mori?” sensei inquired.

 

Mako glanced at him, attempting to hide the surge of disbelief. It was rare for sensei to ask for her advice in matters. But the boy was a special case. She went over her notes again.

 

“I recommend a direct approach initially, sir,” she said. “His psychological profile indicates he will respond most favorably to a balance of harsh discipline and praise, particularly from… a father figure. He will lash out against a softer approach, which he interprets as pretense or being coddled.”

 

“A father figure,” sensei mused. “We have a few trainers available who would fit that description.”

 

Mako shook her head. “Chuck will not respond to a stranger,” she replied.

 

“You already have someone in mind, Miss Mori?” sensei said, raising an eyebrow. Mako tried to dampen the flush that rose to her cheeks. It was not often she openly disagreed with sensei. But this was important. A delicate matter.

 

“There is a skilled patron we once scouted as a trainer in Manila,” Mako said. “He also worked together with Herc Hansen, and is familiar to Chuck.”

 

“Someone he might readily trust more,” sensei said. “Manila…the Beckets? The older one. Yancy.”

 

Mako nodded firmly. “Yes, sensei.”

 

“Reach out to him, Miss Mori. Gauge his interest,” sensei said, and walked back to his desk, flipping open his laptop and putting on a headset. “You’re dismissed,” he added, giving a slight nod.

 

Mako bowed her upper body to Stacker’s, and left the room.

 

**Scene 5 - Yancy**

 

Running a multimillion dollar company had its upsides and downsides.

 

The hooker who was grinding her round ass down on his crotch as Yancy slipped dollar notes into her thong was definitely one of the downsides. He didn’t care much for this shallow bullshit, but his client did. Party boy Scott Hansen, infamous for spending his fortune on prostitutes, drugs and parties that would put the god Bacchus to shame. He was low on cash now, though, after his brother’s casino all but crashed and burned. Rumors had it a deal with Hannibal Chau went south, and man, that was all Yancy wanted to know. Chau was seriously shady as fuck, and no way a clean and legal enterprise like JaegerTech wanted anything to do with that shit.

 

Noticing Yancy wasn’t sporting wood, the girl glared at him, and Yancy gave her a weak smile, slipping a fifty under the elastic band of her skimpy underwear. She hopped off and strutted back to the stage.

 

“Man, why’d you do that,” Scott complained next to him. “She had fantastic tits.”

 

Yancy grinned. “Scott, we have to talk business, and not in front of the ladies, if you catch my drift.”

 

Scott grabbed another shot of liquor, throwing it into his throat like it was water, and gasped. “All right, all right, we’ll leave the bitches here,” he said. “Only ‘cause you’re gonna show me the good stuff, Becket-boy.”

 

Yancy’s grin hardened a little. Scott Hansen was a grade A asshole. But he was one of the few people capable of handling JaegerTech’s new, freshly patented neurorobotic bridge system, the Pons. Plug it in a human brain, and you could control robots with your own body. It was going to be the biggest thing of the 21st century. It would change everything, from toxic waste processing to space station construction.

 

Just too bad it took assholes like Scott to make it work. Not everyone could just jack into a robot, you needed a kind of special brain. A Drift compatible one. Mapping a robot to a human brain put you in a weird headspace, the Drift, and most people couldn’t handle it. In fact, besides Yancy himself and Raleigh, Scott Hansen was the only other pilot they’d found. His brother Hercules was probably compatible as well, because it seemed to be a genetic thing. Unfortunately, Herc was mostly interested in running his casino, Lucky Seven. Scott fed his lifestyle from the shares he held in Herc’s business, and Herc was just glad to have his piece of shit brother out of his hair. And that’s how JaegerTech got a hold of Scott and kept him around: showering him with money and luxury goods. Whatever did the trick, right?

 

Once they’d retired to a back room and Yancy had taken the Pons gear out of a safe, Scott’s expression went unusually serious.

 

“Becket,” he started, plopping down into a large comfortable chair and pouring himself a shot of vodka from the bottle in the room. The labels were all Russian, specially imported stuff. “You gotta help me out. You got money, right? Influence. I mean, look at this place,” he continued, arm gesturing at the room. Yeah, they were in a real fancy club you couldn’t get into without the necessary gold and black cards. Richest of the rich, and all.

 

“Help you out how?” Yancy replied, sitting down and leaning back. Anything to garner more favor from Scott freaking Hansen was a good thing. Easier to keep him in line when he inevitably fucked something up.

 

“‘s my baby nephew,” Scott said. “Herc’s… sold him to Pentecost. Gotta get him back, yeah?”

 

Yancy frowned. Sold him? What the hell? This sounds like fuckload of trouble to get into. He remembered Herc mentioning his son, but he’d never seen the boy. And Pentecost… that name rang a bell. Ah, Manila. The scent of sweet flowers and peppermint booze, hot nights on the beach, more lovers than he and Raleigh knew what to do with. And somewhere between being high as a kite and crazy ass drunk, this tall guy in a sharp suit had walked up Yancy. Spoke in a booming voice that made you want to salute him. Explained how that wonderful cat-like boy Yancy’d spent two nights in a row with was one of his, and the boy spoke highly of Yancy, and if maybe he’d like to work with the PPDC.

 

The offer was tempting, but Yancy had a lot more faith in his own business than in Pentecost’s. Elite hookers he called pets, and all that. People trained to act like puppies, cats, bears, whatever the patron needed. Hell, if sex workers had a career path, working for the PPDC would be endgame, king or queen of the hill, something like that. People didn’t get _sold_ to the PPDC. They were _chosen_.

 

So how did Herc Hansen end up losing his kid to them?

 

Ah… the casino’s debt. Something with Hannibal Chau. Yancy didn’t have the full picture, but he could guess. Trying to rescue his floundering business, Herc might’ve made some sort of deal that went south. Then pawned his kid to Pentecost to buy off Chau, or something.

 

Yancy sighed, leaning forward. “Sorry to hear about your nephew, Scott. But I’m not sure how I could be of assistance. I keep my hands and my business clean.”

 

“Don’t need your business,” Scott said, taking another swig of vodka, face twisting up as the strong stuff burnt his throat. Russian vodka didn’t fuck around. “Need you, dude.”

 

Yancy frowned, sat back again and folded his arms across his chest. He really didn’t like where this conversation was going. “Need me how?”

 

“Let’s say, Herc went fucking ballistic when he found out Stacker wants to train the kid as a pet. And a little birdie whistled in my ear saying they wanna get you as a trainer, Becks.” Scott poured himself another drink. Anyone else would’ve been lying on the floor by now, but Scott’s speech was barely slurred. The man had an insane tolerance for alcohol and recreational drugs, which was a large part of the reason he chased his highs and lows the way he did. It’s also what made his brain useful for Pons research.

 

Even so, Scott was making less sense by the minute. “I have no experience as a… trainer,” Yancy said, careful with the word. “Why would the PPDC want me for the boy?”

 

“Dunno,” Scott answered, “But I figure, the kid’s not too happy about the situation. He’s pretty fucking clever. Kind of a shitty brat, really. And he knows you know me and his old man.”

 

“So it’s about who he trusts,” Yancy said. Put that way, it made sense. But it still seemed like a real bad idea to get involved with the Hansen’s family problems, no matter how fucked up it was or what the boy had to deal with.

 

“Scott…” Yancy began, the tone of imminent denial obvious.

 

Scott’s expression darkened, and he rose from his seat. “I’m fucking serious, Becket,” he said, a low growl to his voice that suggested if Yancy said no again, he wasn’t going to be so polite about it. “You don’t do this, I’m backing out of Pons research, and you can kiss this year’s Breach Expo good fucking bye.”

 

Goddammit. Scott had him by the balls, and not in the good way, either. The Breach would be full of potential investors, and Yancy had counted on hauling in at least three new parties to fund their new project - the Jaeger Program. It was huge, and costly. And they needed Scott for it.

 

Not to mention that the Hansen party boy was getting a crazed look about him, and Yancy wondered if he was hiding a weapon. Could just knock him over the head with the bottle, too. Fine. For now, he’d play along.

 

“Alright, Scott,” Yancy said. “It’s hard to decline that offer, isn’t it?” He got to his feet and stuck out his hand. “I’ll get your nephew out of there.”

 

Scott shook his hand. “You back out of this, Yancy fucking Becket, the expo is the least of your worries,” he said.

 

With Scott Hansen’s ties to the lower regions of society, Yancy had no doubt that was not an idle threat.

 

“You have my word,” Yancy replied.

 

**Scene 6 - Chuck**

 

Five days in, and Chuck was covered in bruises. Possibly every bone he had in his body hurt. Mako really was a lot tougher than she looked, and he was almost starting to respect the short, wiry Japanese woman.

 

He didn’t care what they wanted to do to him or where they wanted him to go. After a night—or an afternoon, whatever—of crying, anger had solidified into hatred and Chuck had decided to not give up without a fight. Literally. Every time Mako appeared he’d tried to run, and every time she’d taken him down in less than a second. Maybe next time she’d show up with a blade or a gun. Chuck didn’t know how far he was willing to go, but he’d give it his damn best try. Somehow, being in a hopeless, desperate situation made him want to do stupid shit. What did he have to lose, right? His life? Couldn’t be worse than the alternative. He wasn’t going to… bend over and become a whore for these assholes, no fucking way.

 

So when the door to his room clicked open again Chuck braced himself. He’d observed the way Mako moved. Perhaps he could dodge her this time. Might not even make it out of the hallway, but it still beat being stuck here.

 

Instead, he was faced with a tall, broad, blonde dude—and kind of handsome, Chuck noted somewhere before his defenses kicked in.

 

“Who the hell are you?” Chuck spat.

 

The guy stepped into the room, and then Chuck spotted Mako as she followed him inside. Blondie walked up to Chuck and stuck out his hand. “I’m Yancy. Yancy Becket.”

 

Chuck’s eyes narrowed, ignoring Yancy’s gesture. “I know that name. You work with my uncle.”

 

Yancy smiled, and wow that was a pretty smile  _shut up you’re not going to be nice to him_.

 

“I’m glad you remember,” Yancy said.

 

“I’m not an idiot,” Chuck shot back, and folded his arms across his chest. “What do you want and what are you doing here?”

 

Mako stepped forward. “Yancy is going to help you fit in here,” she said.

 

Chuck scoffed and he glared at Yancy. “Figures some rich hotshot CEO is into this fucked up stuff.”

 

Yancy approached him, reached out slowly, and placed a hand on Chuck’s shoulder. Which Chuck didn’t swat away. He wanted to, wanted to punch this smug bastard in the face, but… Yancy’s hand was really big and warm and even though it barely pressed on him at all, it’s like his body froze in place from the touch.

 

“Chuck,” Yancy spoke, with a firm, calm voice. “I _am_ here to help you. I know this isn’t easy. But I would like you to cooperate.”

 

“I…” Chuck stammered. The way Yancy was talking to him made him feel a little dizzy. But Mako was still there, all disapproval and dismissal of him, and Chuck shot her a fierce glare.

 

Yancy caught his gaze and turned around to Mako. “Miss Mori, I think you can leave us,” he said.

 

Mako’s eyes narrowed, and looked from Yancy to Chuck and back, then seemed to come to a decision. “Very well, Mr. Becket,” she said, and left the room.

 

“Feel better?” Yancy said, his hand still resting on Chuck’s shoulder.

 

“Wh-what do you mean,” Chuck stammered, cursing how Yancy’s presence was affecting him.

 

“You don’t like her,” Yancy replied with a smile, and stepped a little closer to Chuck.

 

“I don’t like you either, mate,” Chuck said. “I don’t like any of this. This entire place is fucked up.”

 

Yancy’s expression softened a little, almost hurt. “I’m sorry to hear that, Chuck,” he said. Yancy’s fingers thrummed lightly on Chuck’s shoulder, and then moved towards his neck. A light shiver went through him and he gritted his teeth. He didn’t know what Yancy was doing to him but he didn’t like it, didn’t like the way Yancy’s fingers made his skin tingle, the way he was stepping closer, all tall and broad and…

 

“You’re blushing, Chuck,” Yancy said.

 

“Shut up,” Chuck muttered, looking away. He clenched his fists, trying to will himself angry again, trying to find that rage that came so easily when Mako was around him.

 

Yancy’s hand cupped his chin and tilted his head back, Yancy’s ice blue eyes meeting Chuck’s. He leaned forward, so close their lips almost met, and then their cheeks brushed as Yancy moved his lips to Chuck’s ear.

 

“I’ve come to get you out of here, Chuck. Your uncle sent me,” Yancy hissed.

 

Chuck froze, his eyebrows going up in shock.

 

“Play along. This room is bugged, every room is. Don’t let them suspect anything,” Yancy continued, curling his hand around Chuck’s hip and pulling him closer, whispering so softly Chuck could barely make out the words. “Trust me and follow my lead, okay?”

 

Yancy pulled back a little, eyes meeting Chuck’s again. He smiled, drawing a finger over the line of Chuck’s jaw. “I’m glad you’re behaving.”

 

Chuck placed his hands against Yancy’s chest and shoved him away. If he was going to have to play along, suddenly turning all nice and docile was gonna be suspicious, right?

 

“D-don’t get any ideas, you bastard,” Chuck said.

 

Yancy smiled. “When Miss Mori comes back and takes us to our room, I would like you to cooperate as well, Chuck,” he said. “Be a good boy for me.”

 

His chest felt tight, like the breath was knocked out of him, his skin prickling. What the hell? Why was he so affected by Yancy’s words? He just had to play along, that’s all.

 

“Fine,” Chuck grumbled.

 

Yancy knocked on the door, and Mako stepped back inside. She quietly observed them, then gave them a quick nod. “Follow me, please.”

 

* * *

 

Chuck didn’t really know what to expect when Yancy said ‘our room’. It sounded weird, like they were going on a date or something.

 

Instead, Mako took them several floors up to a large, luxurious room with a queen size bed, a huge bathroom—with a bath, no less—and other furniture. Sofa, coffee table, chairs, cabinets. Still no windows, though, even though there were curtains on the walls just to dress up the place.

 

“I will leave you to it,” Mako said, after having shown them around the room. “Use the panel on the door to signal you want to leave.” And with that, she left, locking the door behind her. Which Chuck thought was kinda weird.

 

“You’re locked in too?” he said to Yancy, frowning.

 

“I’m only here to help,” Yancy replied.

 

Chuck sneered. “Help with what, exactly? Teaching me how to be a good little hooker to rich jerks like you?” He bit his lip, because he hadn’t really wanted to say it like that, but it’s what he’d been thinking the whole time and Mako wouldn’t talk to him about it. He didn’t trust Yancy, not really. But he wanted to believe Yancy was going to help him get out of there.

 

“Chuck,” Yancy said pointedly, and stuck out his hand. “Come here.”

 

Chuck scrunched up his face. Yancy had completely ignored his question and he wasn’t sure what else to do, so he obeyed and took Yancy’s hand.

 

At that, Yancy smiled. His hand cupped Chuck’s jaw like before, fingers squeezing lightly into the skin. “You’re a smart boy, Chuck, so I won’t lie to you. Yes. The answer to your question is, yes, that is exactly what I am going to teach you.”

 

It was the answer Chuck wasn’t expecting and didn’t want to hear. A cold tremor ran through his body. Was he in a bad dream? Didn’t Yancy say he’d get him out?

 

“Your father sold you,” Yancy continued, his gaze ice-cold and unforgiving, missing the kindness and warmth from before in Chuck’s small room. His grip on Chuck’s jaw tightened. “For a great deal of money. You are an investment, one that Marshall Pentecost wants returns on.”

 

Was Yancy still playing? Should he be following his lead? Chuck didn’t know anymore. Yancy was scaring the shit out of him. And what kind of fucked-up title was Marshall?

 

“So what are you gonna do?” Chuck managed to grit out. “You’re gonna rape me now? Is that what gets you off, big guy?”

 

He’d meant those words to come out a lot fiercer than they did, but instead his voice was shaking, way more afraid than angry.

 

Yancy laughed, and it wasn’t a good or happy laugh at all. The sound of it made Chuck feel sick. Everything about this situation was making him feel sick.

 

And Yancy’s grip moved lower, to Chuck’s throat, tightened, and then Yancy threw him to the floor.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yancy spat. “You’re useless. Pathetic. Look at you. You really think I want to stick my cock inside you? You can’t even get me hard.”

 

The room seemed to spin slowly around him, Yancy towering over him like a giant, and Chuck involuntarily shrunk under his gaze. He was… playing along, right? Yancy had a plan, right? Chuck’s fingers dug into the carpet of the floor and he wished he could just talk to Yancy normally, wish he could ask all those questions. But the warning Yancy had given him earlier still rang in his head. The room was bugged, he’d said.

 

Wait… and that meant they were listening in. Maybe even watching. Shit. Was that why Yancy was being such an ass? They were watching him as well and he didn’t want to blow his cover?

 

Chuck’s head was starting to hurt from all the questions and uncertainties twisting around in it and for once he wished he could make them stop, and then he looked up at Yancy, caught his eyes. And saw a flicker of that heat from before. Then, the corner of Yancy’s mouth went up with a small twitch, and he winked at Chuck—so fast Chuck almost missed it.

 

That’s it, he thought. If there’s cameras maybe they can’t see his face now, so he’s trying to reassure me. He wants me to trust him. Chuck blinked, not sure how to signal anything back. Not like he was trained as a freaking spy. So instead, he did what he figured Yancy would want him to do, and crawled forward.

 

“Is that a challenge?”

 

Yancy’s expression turned sour again, and he grasped Chuck by the hair, yanking him forward. “No, Chuck,” he growled. “I don’t challenge you. I _order_ you. Inside this room, you belong to me and you will do what I tell you or face punishment. I am your owner, and you are my pet. Do you understand?”

 

Chuck trembled, tears stinging in his eyes. He wanted to trust Yancy, really did, because there was nobody else here. But Yancy’s words were harsh, frightening. He didn’t know what Yancy’s plan was, how far Yancy wanted him to go, how long he was supposed to keep up the act. He didn’t know anything. But Yancy did, right? Yancy knew what he was doing. Yancy’s hand fisting Chuck’s hair, pulling painfully at the roots, nothing but cold determination in his eyes. He might as well trust Yancy. There was nothing else left.

 

“I understand,” Chuck sighed.

 

And Yancy smiled, a hint of warmth again, and Chuck was more at ease because it meant he’d done the right thing, made the right choice. Yes, he would put his fate in Yancy’s hands. Now that he made the call it came as a relief, the worry sliding off him and he felt lighter, better, hopeful.

 

Yancy’s grip on him loosened, turned into a caress, his fingers stroking Chuck’s hair, scratching his neck. “Good boy.”

 

Those words again, and now the heat was much fiercer inside him, igniting at the base of his spine and working its way up, and this time Chuck didn’t try to stop or hide it. Instead, his lips parted and he leaned into Yancy’s hand. And it was okay like this. Warm and nice and nothing like the constant, screeching anxiety that had wracked his nerves since the day he’d arrived. It felt so good to let it go.

 

Yancy let out a pleasant hum. “Learning so fast,” he said, smiling. “Maybe you’re not useless after all, pet.”

 

Another burst of heat at the pet name, soft and lighting up in his chest. “Please,” Chuck said, before he even thought about it, the word simply floating up out of his lungs and through his lips because it wanted to be heard.

 

“Please… what?” Yancy said, his eyes narrowing a little.

 

Oh, there was something more. He should address Yancy differently. Maybe...

 

“Please, sir,” Chuck said, his voice softer because he wasn’t sure that’s what Yancy was going for.

 

But Yancy smiled in approval, and traced a finger over Chuck’s jaw to rest under his chin. “What are you begging for, pet?”

 

“I… I want to…” Chuck blushed, not even sure what he wanted, just that Yancy’s words from before still bothered him. “... be useful,” he ventured.

 

Yancy grinned, carding his hands through Chuck’s hair. “Such an eager boy,” he murmured.

 

Yancy’s touch was giving him goosebumps, and Chuck found himself wishing Yancy would touch him more. Maybe the situation was wrong for it, maybe all of it was wrong, but he didn’t care anymore. He’d been so afraid, so lost, and here Yancy was, warm and big and strong and taking care of him.

 

Chuck’s hands went to his waist and he untied the knot to his bathrobe, letting it fall from his shoulders, and now he sat naked on the floor before Yancy.

 

And he thought it would please Yancy, but instead, a frown formed on his face. “Did I allow you to undress, pet?”

 

Chuck blushed. “No…” Now he wasn’t sure if he should put the robe back on or not. He decided to wait for Yancy to tell him what to do next.

 

Yancy sighed. “I have to teach you manners, pet. Turn around.”

 

Chuck shivered, unsure of what Yancy had planned, but he wanted to know what he had done wrong and how to do better. He shuffled around, turning his back towards Yancy.

 

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was still wondering—am I playing along? Is this all just a game? Is Yancy going to get me out? But he pushed those thoughts away, not wanting to face the uncertainty, not wanting to find out the answers, either.

 

He heard Yancy fidget with his belt, the clang of the metal clasp and the slide of fabric against fabric. What was Yancy going to do?

 

Then Yancy was close to him, Yancy’s hand on his neck. “Bend forward, pet,” Yancy’s voice came, low and commanding, his hand pressing down. Chuck gasped, and obeyed, leaning forward.

 

He was naked, on the floor, his ass up towards Yancy. Chuck bit his lip and his fingers dug into the carpet again. Trust him, trust Yancy, he said to himself, over and over. He’d do anything if he could stop being afraid all the time.

 

“You were a bad boy,” Yancy started. “You should always address me with ‘sir’, and just now, you didn’t. Do you understand, pet?”

 

Chuck whimpered. “Yes, sir,” he whispered, and he understood, he was supposed to say sir.

 

“Because you were a bad boy, I have to punish you,” Yancy continued. “Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Chuck repeated, not sure what Yancy meant by punishment. He could guess, but didn’t want to, tried not to think about it.

 

“I am your owner, you are my pet, and you will address me as ‘sir’,” Yancy said. Then, without further warning, he lashed out with the belt.

 

A fiercely hot pain shot out from Chuck’s buttocks and he cried out from the shock.

 

“Repeat in your own words, pet,” Yancy said.

 

Chuck gasped, shaking his head, trying to focus on what Yancy asked of him. “You are my owner,” Chuck said, shaking, tears stinging in his eyes. “I am your pet. I will address you as sir.”

 

“Good boy,” Yancy said, and it was the third time he called Chuck that and every time those words stirred up more heat in Chuck’s body, pushing and prodding at a tightness in his chest he couldn’t describe.

 

“But you did something else wrong, didn’t you?” Yancy continued.

 

Chuck bit his lip. What else? Was it… “I undressed without your permission, sir?” Chuck hazarded.

 

“That’s right,” Yancy said.

 

“Please, sir,” Chuck whimpered. “I understand. I will ask permission next time! Please don’t punish me, sir.” He was shaking all over, the words cascading from his lips, unable to hold them back. The skin on his ass was still throbbing painfully from where the belt had struck him and he didn’t want to feel it again.

 

Yancy’s hand was on his head, gently patting his hair, and then slid down over his neck, shoulders and spine. “I have to do this, pet,” Yancy said, and there was a hint of sadness to his voice, something like disappointment or regret. He traced a finger over the welt on Chuck’s buttocks and Chuck let out a soft whimper. “You may understand, but your body does not. You need to feel the consequences of your actions in order to learn.”

 

“Please, sir…” Chuck gasped, and he braced himself.

 

“You will ask me for permission before you undress,” Yancy said. “You will not do anything with your body until I permit it.”

 

The belt struck his ass again and the fierce, sharp pain brought tears to Chuck’s eyes. He tried to hold back a sob, but couldn’t, his body spasming as a loud cry burst from his lips.

 

“Repeat,” Yancy commanded.

 

“I will ask permission… for undressing, sir,” Chuck gasped. “I won’t… do anything, my body, you have to allow it, sir.” He knew he didn’t get all the words right, too scared to remember them all correctly, and he hoped it would be enough for Yancy.

 

He heard Yancy put his belt back on, and Chuck let out a sigh of relief.

 

“Put your bathrobe back on, and turn around,” Yancy said. As Chuck followed his commands, he saw Yancy had sat down on the end of the bed. When Chuck was dressed again, Yancy patted his thigh. “Come here, pet,” he said.

 

Chuck crawled towards him. Somehow, it didn’t even occur to him to stand up. It simply… made more sense this way. His buttocks still hurt from the lashes and his body felt all weird, like it was hot and cold at the same time, shaking all over.

 

Once Chuck was sitting on the floor in front of Yancy, Yancy patted his thighs again. “Come sit up here,” he said, and Chuck blushed as he climbed onto Yancy’s lap. Not sure how to sit, he first put both his legs on one side, but Yancy’s hands on his hips began to turn him around and Chuck quickly followed Yancy's gestures until he was sitting flush against him, a leg on each side against Yancy’s hips, his crotch pressed to Yancy’s.

 

Yancy’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him in close, and then Yancy’s lips brushed against his ear.

 

“You did very well, Chuck,” Yancy whispered. “I’m glad you’re trusting me.” Yancy’s embrace tightened. “They won’t let you out of here until you’ve finished your training.”

 

It was as if the air was sucked from Chuck’s lungs, the room instantly turned upside down and his stomach along with it. No, no, that wasn’t right. He played along. He did what Yancy told him to do. He could get out. There was a plan. Yancy would have a plan, right? He convulsed in Yancy’s grip, panicking.

 

“No, no, you have to --” Chuck began, and then Yancy turned his head and kissed him, soft warm lips against his own, and in the kiss Yancy’s ice-blue eyes met his. Yancy’s hand went up to the back of Chuck’s head and tilted his face to a better angle, ran his tongue over Chuck’s lips, and Chuck shuddered in Yancy’s grip again. Not from fear, this time. Something else, hot and tight, twisting in his guts.

 

Yancy broke off the kiss, brought his lips to Chuck’s ear again. “This is the only way,” he hissed. “The only way I can take care of you. I’m sorry, Chuck.”

 

Yancy sat back, his eyes meeting Chuck’s again. “You’re a good boy,” he said, his eyebrows a little raised, seeking confirmation from Chuck.

 

This wasn’t fair. He had trusted Yancy and now… now he was going to have to give it all up. Chuck had figured Yancy would get him out on the same day, find a way to fool the cameras and the door lock, thought that if he went along with it everything would be all right.

 

But there would be more of this. Finish his training, Yancy said. So he wasn’t lying when he answered ‘yes’ to Chuck’s question, teaching him how to be a hooker or a pet or whatever, wasn’t lying when he said he owned Chuck when they were in this room. Wasn’t playing, wasn’t faking it. Chuck’s bottom lip trembled, he felt dizzy and sweaty, like he couldn’t breathe. Yancy’s grip on him felt like he was being choked and his vision became strange, like the room was getting smaller around him, and the last thing he saw was Yancy, Yancy’s eyes, now full of worry. And then, he felt himself fall back, being swallowed by darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck's training continues, and things get even more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious dubcon warnings all over this chapter. And yet, still not the darkest place this fic is going.
> 
> I don't even know what's happening anymore, the characters are telling their stories and I'm just the girl with the keyboard.
> 
> I sincerely apologize for putting you all through this.

**Scene 7 - Yancy**

  
  


Yancy was drunk. Very drunk. His living room was starting a slow spin around him, he stood uneasy on his legs and he’d taken so many shots of Jägermeister the drink almost seemed sweet on his tongue, rather than the burning bitter taste of strong liquor. And it still wasn’t enough to numb him.

 

He was fucked up. He fucked up. He was fucking up this kid, he knew it, and he did it anyway. God fucking dammit, Yance. He hated himself and he felt sick and what he hated the most is that he’d fucking enjoyed it, wanted more of it.

 

He’d been trying to find a way to get the boy out of Pentecost’s hands when the PPDC’s sales exec, Mako Mori, had contacted him herself. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. So Yancy had accepted her offer, went to talk to Mori and Pentecost, and soon it became apparent they knew exactly what Yancy was up to. Or had figured it out, anyway. Didn’t take a genius. Yancy’s association with the Hansens was hardly top secret, what with Scott being in JaegerTech’s marketing campaigns as the face of human-robot interaction. So Pentecost already suspected Yancy was gonna try to help the Hansens, try to get Chuck out. And Pentecost had made it real fucking clear that wasn’t gonna happen. The Beckets weren’t gangsters; between their inherited family fortune and Yancy’s legitimate tech company being the hottest new thing in Silicon Valley, there was no illegal shit going on. What did Yancy think he was gonna do, bust in guns a-blazin'?

 

You want to help this boy, Pentecost had said, you train him. Yancy had told him to go fuck himself, after which Mori looked just about ready to stab him. But Pentecost had gone on and on about how they were going to train Chuck either way, and wouldn’t Yancy rather make sure it was with someone Chuck could trust?

 

Fuck.

 

Yancy walked to the kitchen to get another goddamn bottle of liquor because this one was empty and his brain was still in working order. He caught himself in the hallway mirror as he passed it and froze. Then couldn’t even fucking look at himself. Balled his hand into a fist. Wanted to smash the goddamn mirror, but that would bring seven years of bad luck, right? And things were pretty fucked up already, so never mind.

 

Maybe he shouldn’t have agreed. Would’ve probably been better on his conscience. But Pentecost had pretty much spelled it out for him, that if Yancy wasn’t going to accept, it would be the first and the last time he was allowed into the PPDC headquarters, and Chuck would be out of his reach, the Hansens with no way to know what was happening to him.

 

And he’d called Scott, then. Pentecost knew what was going on, anyway, and Yancy wasn’t going to… groom the goddamn kid without at least some kind of approval, whatever. And Scott had given his permission. _Not like the boy had a fucking say in it_ _—_ _shut up, shut up, shut up!_  Yancy’s fist smashed into the counter top, rattling the dirty glasses scattered around the sink. _Shut the hell up_. What had Scott said to him? You’re a good, decent guy, Yance, I trust you.

 

Why the fuck was anyone trusting him with anyone.

 

That kid… that fucking kid with his gorgeous eyes with long gold lashes, so fierce when frowning, so vulnerable when not, the way he looked both angry and afraid at the same time, and jesus christ the freckles, the fucking _freckles_...

 

He is fucking _sixteen_ , Yance, the kid is fucking underage, what the _fuck_ are you doing _—_

 

And the way the boy had leaned into his touch, said please so prettily, the way the welts lit up on his pale skin…

 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck._

 

Yancy sank down on the kitchen floor, not even bothering with glasses anymore, put a new full bottle of liquor to his lips and just poured it right in, burning down his throat, hoping it would burn the fucking sin and desire away.

 

He was going to hell.

 

He hadn’t expected it to still ache so fiercely, to feel that hunger in his skin, in his fingertips… to push down, to own, to… dominate. It’d been years, really. Not after the boy in Manila, not since then, after the PPDC’s offer he’d stopped going to clubs like that. And that cat-boy had been so sweet, so lovely, moaning and crying under his touch as Yancy painted his skin red and blue, whimpering yes sir, no sir, please sir…

 

He’s only sixteen Yance, he’s only fucking sixteen and all alone and so afraid, and so pliant, so easy to push and pull this and that way until he was exactly where Yancy wanted him, on his knees, nice and obedient, eyes pleading, that pretty mouth begging.

 

And the kid had fainted, when he realized Yancy wasn’t playing around, wasn’t just going to kick in a few doors and get him out of there.

 

Yancy was going to tear the boy apart and put him back together the way the PPDC wanted him to be, the perfect obedient pet, loving every second of what his master would do to him.

 

And Yancy hated himself, because he knew it’s what he wanted to do, the moment he’d laid eyes on Chuck and felt him tremble under his touch. So pretty, so vulnerable, so angry…

 

The bottle flew against the wall and shattered into pieces, liquor pouring down the wall, shards of glass flying through the kitchen, cutting into the skin of Yancy’s bare feet and arms. He was fucking gone, already crossed the line, didn’t want to go back and he knew it and didn’t want to know it. Yancy dragged himself up to the sink, and threw up, hoping the sickness that had taken a hold of him would leave his body along with the contents of his stomach.

 

* * *

  
  


**Scene 8 - Mako**

  
  


Mako took a deep breath, steeled herself, and marched into Stacker-sensei’s office.

 

He looked up from his laptop, his face brightening as she walked inside. Any other person probably would not see it, but Mako knew every little tell in his expressions. “Miss Mori,” he said, and she bowed to him—deeply, again, as he remained seated. He was glad to see her, she noted, but quite soon he would not be.

 

She walked to stand in front of his desk, folded her hands behind her back, straightened her shoulders and took another breath.

 

“Sensei. I think your decision to train Chuck was a mistake.”

 

There it was. She tried hard to push away the nerves that burst up through her spine. She had never dared to object to sensei’s choices this way. But she could not stay silent. She was not sleeping well, old nightmares of her youth returning, and she felt to her core that what they were doing was not right.

 

“We only train the willing,” Mako continued. “To put him in this situation _—_ ”

 

Sensei interrupted her by rising from his seat, swift and harsh, closing the lid of his laptop and slamming his hand down flat on the desk.

 

“Miss Mori, we have talked about this,” he said, a deep frown forming on his face. “There is nothing more to discuss.”

 

Mako dug her nails into her palm and pushed forward. “Sir, but, what happened to me, when you rescued me—we should not _—_ ”

 

“Enough!” sensei growled, walking around the desk in large strides to tower over her. “You are letting your personal experiences influence your judgment, Miss Mori! This is business, nothing more, understand?”

 

Mako scrunched her face, her eyes burning. She was angry, but more than that, she respected sensei, did not wish to disappoint him.

 

But she was the one who had to pick Chuck up and take him to the doctor, who had to reassure Yancy when his own guilt had overcome him. She would do what was asked of her, but… how far would sensei ask her to go? Perhaps, this was already too far. To talk about Chuck that way.

 

She gritted her teeth and straightened her back, looking sensei in the eye. Her disapproval of his decision was clear. But then, she inclined her head towards him. “I understand, sensei.”

 

“Dismissed,” sensei said, his tone short and level.

 

Once she had left the office, Mako made her way to the doctor’s office, worried about Chuck.

  
  


 

**Scene 9 - Chuck**

  
  


Chuck came to feeling strangely warm and comfortable, and it took him a few minutes to realize he was in another room than his own, wearing a shirt and slacks for the first time in perhaps a week. It felt nice to be wearing something normal again.

 

He felt sick. Feverish, maybe. But different. A darkness in the pit of his stomach, a mild nausea, but it was… like a hunger. Just a little, he scratched at it, and then his mind unveiled the dreams he’d had, flooding into his consciousness, overwhelming. The taste of blood and wine in his mouth, the echoes of fingertips on his skin and lips on his ears, tongue in his mouth, and this craving for something, for…

 

_Yancy._

 

A shock went through his body, and it all came rushing back to him, what happened before, Yancy’s commands, Yancy lashing out at him with his belt.

 

“No,” he whispered, trembling. “No, no…”

 

Just then, he heard someone come in, and he hadn’t quite been aware where he was except in a bed and comfortable, and he sat up to look around. Looked like some kind of hospital room, not too brightly lit, and his bed was behind a screen and he didn’t see anyone else.

 

Then, Mako’s voice.

 

“Is he awake yet?”

 

“I checked up on him ten minutes ago, he was asleep,” a vaguely familiar voice answered. Perhaps he’d heard it when half-asleep, because Chuck was pretty sure he hadn’t met anyone else here beside Mako and…

 

_Yancy._

 

Fuck, he couldn’t even think of his name without shaking. And Chuck couldn’t tell where that was coming from. He was scared, but there was also something else, something that was clawing at him from the back of his mind, the edge of his dreams, whispering. It left a bitter taste on his tongue, a thrill on his spine, and… he squirmed, biting his lip. No, no, that was ridiculous. He couldn’t feel that way. Maybe it was because he’d just woken up. That kind of thing happened, he was a teenager, hormones and all that shit.

 

He heard Mako getting closer, the clack of her heels echoing on the hard plastic floor. And Chuck shifted a little, pulled at the sheets until they covered his erection. What the hell was happening to him?

 

“You’re awake,” Mako said, noticing him sitting upright as she pulled the screen aside. “How are you feeling?”

 

Chuck blushed before he could put up a different facade, and Mako raised an eyebrow at him. Dammit. He clenched a fist, searched for his usual antagonistic attitude towards her. “Wh-what do you care,” he managed to say, still a lot less angry than he wanted it to sound. “You’re the one who put me in the same room as him.”

 

_Him_ , he thought, and again felt a tight heat in his chest. Fuck… he tried to push the feeling away, this visage of a tall, broad, blonde man with piercing blue eyes, wrapping around his soul like a heavy blanket, hot and suffocating, thick and pressing down, and _—_

 

Chuck adjusted the sheets a bit more, bunching them up over his abdomen. He couldn’t help it. “What are you doing to me,” he said, a hint of desperation to his voice.

 

And to his surprise, Mako’s usual poker face melted into a soft, compassionate expression. She didn’t say anything, though, but looked as if she wanted to. Maybe she wasn’t okay with this either, Chuck thought. Just following orders?  But that didn’t excuse her, did it?

 

Then, the doctor came up behind her and stuck out her hand. “Hi Chuck, it’s good to see you up. I’m dr. Sevier, but you can call me Tamsin.”

 

That was probably the friendliest greeting he’d gotten from anyone, and he sized her up. At first glance she seemed young, but the lines in her face betrayed her age. Chuck noticed a scar on the side of her head. Something about her put him at ease.

 

Mako bowed her head slightly. “Tamsin. Is Chuck ready to return to his room?”

 

Tamsin shrugged. “I haven’t cleared him yet, Mako. Give me some space to examine him. Come back in an hour or so.”

 

Mako frowned and pursed her lips.. “An hour is a long time.”

 

“Do you want him to faint again, then?” Tamsin said, crossing her arms over her chest. “If Stacks complains, I’ll deal with him. Grumpy old man that he is.”

 

At that, Mako’s face went a little red, and Chuck grinned. Yeah, he liked this doc, if she could put Mako _and_ Pentecost in their place. She did still work for them, but…

 

“Fine. An hour it is,” Mako bit, and swiftly spun around on her heels and left the room with brisk, huffy steps.

 

When Mako had left, Tamsin turned to Chuck. “So, how are you _really_ feeling, kid? I heard what they put you through. I’m sorry.”

 

It was the first time anyone here had recognized what was going on, and had apologized for it. And before Chuck knew it, tears were rolling down his cheeks, his upper body shaking. And Tamsin’s arms wrapped around him and he just bawled until he couldn’t anymore.

 

When he finally let up, Tamsin gave him a sad smile and a few tissues to wipe his face. “There. Feel better?”

 

Chuck sniffed. “Not really,” he said bitterly, then glanced at Tamsin. “If you know it’s bad what they’re doing, why are you working for them?”

 

Tamsin let out a deep sigh. “They said you were a smart kid,” she said, and met Chuck’s eyes. “Stacks and I… we go way back. He’s...” Tamsin rubbed her temples with one hand, hesitated, and then continued. “…He does know what he’s doing. I know that doesn’t make much sense.”

 

Chuck frowned, coughed, and felt his head throb from the crying.. “No, it doesn’t.”

 

“Mako and Stacker won’t tell you this, so I will,” Tamsin said, shrugging. “That grumpy old man sees potential in you. A lot. He wouldn’t have made the deal with your dad otherwise. In fact, he’s pretty much convinced you could be one of the best.”

 

Chuck’s face turned into nothing but disbelief. The best? What the bleeding hell did that even mean?

 

“Let me put it this way, Chuck. You cost Stacker three million, just to get you here. But that’s small change compared to what you could earn. You’d get a big share of that.”

 

Chuck was reeling. “Uh, what?”

 

Tamsin smiled, this time not sad, but… knowing, somehow. And before Chuck could stop her, she pulled off the sheet, exposing him.

 

Yeah, he was still hard. Despite all the crying and the anger and the confusion, the thought and memory of Yancy was buzzing in his mind, crackling through his nerves like electricity, making him react in a way he couldn’t control.

 

Tamsin glanced at his hard-on, then at Chuck, and pulled the sheets back up over him. “You’re already responding,” she said. “I know you don’t understand. But Stacker’s got an eye for it. That’s why he’s the best in this business.”

 

Chuck blushed so hard his shoulders possibly turned red, clutched the sheets and looked away. “You’re wrong,” he breathed, but something in his guts was crying out, _she’s right, you know she’s right_. And it terrified him.

 

Tamsin sighed. “Look… would you like me to give you something to calm you down?”

 

At that, Chuck shot her a fierce glare. “No way,” he said, anger flaring up in him, clenching his fists. “You’re not gonna turn me into some… some kind of… numb plant,” he stammered, not quite finding the right words. “So you can do whatever you want? No fucking way.”

 

Tamsin smiled. “That’s good to hear,” she said. “Stay strong, Chuck. It’ll get better. Easier.”

 

Chuck frowned. Tamsin seemed nice, but she kept saying conflicting things, feeling sorry for him and then supporting Pentecost. It was all bullshit. For a while he thought there was someone else in the facility that understood, who was going to do something about it. But they were all just… using him. Pentecost, Mako, Tamsin. Even… Yancy. He felt hot tears stinging in his eyes, as if just that thought meant he betrayed Yancy. And his father, his father was the worst of all.

 

Chuck looked away from Tamsin. “Leave me alone,” he said softly, curling up on the bed.

 

“I’ll give you some rest,” the doctor said. “But you heard Mako, an hour is what we got, so I’m checking up on you in half an hour and give you a quick physical so I can sign you out, okay?”

 

“Whatever,” Chuck mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself and diving further into the covers.

 

He heard Tamsin walk back to her desk and only then he allowed himself to pay attention to the throb that was still present between his legs, half a hard-on that wouldn’t go away, the pounding of his heart that wouldn’t slow down, his breathing that wouldn’t quiet. This was all terrible, so fucked up, but he couldn’t ignore it _—_ this deep, dark ache low in his gut that made him feel nauseous and dizzy and turned on at the same time, afraid of reaching out for it and at the same time drawing him in like a black hole, so heavy he couldn’t escape its gravity. And more than anything, he… wanted Yancy, wanted the peace and silence that came with obeying Yancy’s commands. He hated himself for it, felt disgusted by it, didn’t want to _want_. He brought a hand to his mouth and sank his teeth into his knuckles, trying to bite away the tension somehow, wanting to get some sort of focus from the pain.

 

It didn’t help.

 

And then, sort of absentmindedly, Chuck’s hand reached into his slacks, palmed his growing erection, and he sighed from relief. Taking himself in hand brought him comfort, was a familiar warmth. His fingers pressed at the sensitive edge under the tip and he whimpered a little, and then—then Yancy’s voice was there. _You will not do anything with your body until I permit it._

 

Did Yancy mean this sort of thing, as well? Jacking off, did that count? Chuck wasn’t sure. What if Yancy asked and he’d get punished again?

 

He blushed, bit his lip, and then slid his hand back up to his chest.

 

He didn’t want Yancy to punish him again.

  
  
  


**Scene 10 - Yancy**

  
  


He’d woken up the next morning with one hell of a headache. Raleigh had called him, like, where the fuck are you Yance, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all night. Turned out his little brother just wanted to tell him about this new shoot he’s doing in Anchorage, some magazine thing called Steamy Studs in the Snow. Which was hilarious, and gave Yancy the laughs he sorely needed. But when Raleigh asked about why his older brother hadn’t answered his phone, Yancy dodged the subject and mumbled something about long meetings and urgent business and threw in some other corporate and financial terms that had Raleigh zoning out in less than a minute.

 

Couldn’t really tell his baby bro he was getting his hands all over an underage boy, could he?

 

He didn’t hear from the PPDC for three days, and then they contacted him again, specifying a time and location to be picked up by one of their drivers. Once he made it through the elaborate security measures of the PPDC’s headquarters in LA, Mako led him straight up to what was his and Chuck’s room, the luxurious one they were in before.

 

“So, uh… how’s Chuck been?” Yancy inquired.

 

Mako glanced at him, and he noticed a subtle change in her body language. She stiffened a little, her eyes flitting away from him towards to the floor and then back up. Not like the steeled front she’d put up before—though he recalled even Mako was unsettled by Chuck passing out, she’d convinced Yancy to come back here. He wondered if she held the same reservations as him.

 

But then… that didn’t matter, did it? They were still walking through these hallways, ready to continue molding Chuck into what they wanted him to be. Neither of them had the right to take the moral high ground. Yancy always figured he was above this kind of thing, but he wasn’t. He was a real asshole, just like the rest of ‘em. Like all those rich shits he looked down on for wasting money on hookers and drugs and alcohol, not giving a fuck about the collateral damage. And here he was. Ready and willing to use Chuck for his own pleasure, simply because he had the power to. And the worst thing was he knew it, he could put a stop it, and he didn’t. Making up a dozen excuses for himself that were fucking bullshit because when he got right down to it - and he’d tried to so hard not to, tried to drown it all at the bottom of several bottles of hard liquor - he was doing this because he wanted to. Because he _could_.

 

“Chuck is doing well,” Mako answered after a long pause. “He is looking forward to seeing you again.”

 

Yancy froze in his steps. Noticing he wasn’t beside her anymore, Mako stopped as well. Yancy looked at her in disbelief.

 

“He is?”

 

Mako nodded at him in that typical way Yancy had come to associate with the tiny, fierce Japanese woman, with one forward bob of her head and her upper body tilting along slightly. “Chuck is…” She paused. “You will see.”

 

Yancy frowned, and resumed following Mako.

 

Mako opened the door to the luxury training room and Yancy sucked in his breath sharply when he found Chuck sitting on the floor, kneeling, arms folded behind his back, wearing nothing but small black latex shorts and a blindfold. Yancy observed the small changes in Chuck’s posture when he heard them come into the room, but he kept as still as possible, face turned down towards the floor.

 

Mako remained silent, simply placing her hand on Yancy’s shoulder and giving him what he supposed was an encouraging nod. Then she left, and the door locked behind her.

 

Chuck began to tremble as he approached, his chest heaving with quicker breaths. Yancy walked up to him until he could feel Chuck’s breath on his arm as he reached out. Without saying a word, he let the back of his hand brush against Chuck’s cheek and with that touch, Chuck gasped, leaning into it.

 

“Pet,” Yancy said, so much hoarser than he wanted. This wasn’t how he’d expected to find Chuck. What had happened in the past three days that caused such a change in the boy?

 

Chuck whimpered. “Owner,” he whispered, biting his lip.

 

Yancy reached behind Chuck and undid the blindfold. And what greeted him in Chuck’s eyes was something he could only describe as hunger, or thirst, or just… craving. Chuck’s face flushed, his lips parted.

 

“Look at you, so well-behaved already,” Yancy said, his fingers tangling in Chuck’s hair. “What happened, pet?”

 

Chuck’s bottom lip trembled, arching further into Yancy’s touch. His entire body seemed to be on edge, like the strings on a violin, tensed across the instrument’s length. And oh, did Yancy want to bring out the beautiful music in Chuck’s body. With his hands, his fingers, his lips and every tool he could find. But why, how, did this happen?

 

His gaze drifted lower and there was his answer. Chuck’s small, tight shorts had a V-shaped opening at the front, held together by laces, and against them pressed the swollen, red tip of the boy’s cock.

 

Yancy nudged the tip of his shoe against it and Chuck let out a loud whine.

 

“Ah, you’re so excited,” Yancy mused, and smiled. This was a good sign, wasn’t it?

 

“Tell me, pet,” he said, lifting Chuck’s chin up with a finger to look at him. “Did you do as you were told?”

 

Chuck nodded, quick and hefty. “Yes, sir,” he said in a soft voice. “I didn’t do anything with my body. I didn’t touch it, sir…”

 

Yancy couldn’t deny the buzz that answer sent through his body. Didn’t want to. The boy had remembered, hadn’t touched himself for days. And judging from the state of his body, Chuck had wanted to—had needed to.

 

He lifted Chuck’s chin up higher and bent forward, placing a kiss on the boys lips. Noting how Chuck stretched his head up as far as it would go as Yancy slowly let go, trying to make the kiss last as long as possible.

 

Chuck gave him a pleading, teary-eyed look. “Have I…” he said, trembling. “Did I… do good?”

 

Yancy smiled. “Yes, pet,” he replied. “You’ve been a good boy.”

 

At that, a wide smile appeared on Chuck’s face, unlike anything Yancy had seen from him before, and it was big and then there were _dimples_ in his cheeks and Yancy shivered. So pretty, the boy was so pretty like this.

 

“Pet,” Yancy started, running his thumb over Chuck’s lower lip. “I’m going to explain something to you, and I want you to pay attention and tell me if you do not understand.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Chuck sighed.

 

Yancy walked to one of the dressers in the room and pulled open the top drawer. The drawer inside was divided into many different boxes with assorted small toys, mainly clamps, plugs and gags. Yancy pulled out a pair of Japanese clover clamps and closed the drawer again before walking back to Chuck.

 

“I told you before that if you were a bad boy, I would punish you,” Yancy explained. “Being disciplined makes you a good boy, pet. Do you understand that?”

 

Chuck blinked slowly, genuinely considering Yancy’s words, not just answering out of obedience. “Yes, sir. I understand,” he replied eventually.

 

“Now… if you are a very, very good boy, I may reward you instead,” Yancy continued. “So if being disciplined makes you a good boy, what would make you a very very good boy, pet?”

 

It didn’t escape his attention how Chuck practically shuddered every time Yancy said ‘good boy’, his skin flushing more and more, and by the look of the tight shorts, Chuck was growing harder at each mention of the phrase as well. Oh, he was so delicious, Yancy thought, and this time he felt a thrill crawling through his skin, down his abdomen. He took a deep breath to calm himself down.

 

Chuck frowned, thinking. “... Being disciplined harder, sir?” he sighed.

 

Yancy smiled. “Such a clever pet, you are,” he said approvingly, running his fingers over Chuck’s cheek. “You understand, then?” He nudged the tip of his shoe against Chuck’s erection again, now hard and visible in his little shorts. Chuck pressed his lips together, but the moan escaped his body anyway. “I think you want a big reward today, pet,” Yancy said.

 

“Aahh… yes, sir,” Chuck whimpered. “Please…”

 

The boy was almost there. It was so beautiful to see him react like this, flushed with both arousal and shame. And maybe Chuck was very young... but Yancy damn well knew a natural sub when he saw one and Chuck wasn’t just being pushed into it now. He needed it, badly.

 

“Let me hear you beg for it properly, pet,” Yancy said, standing back a little and folding his arms across his chest.

 

“Please, sir,” Chuck breathed, “Please… discipline me. I want the reward, sir… want to be good. Please…”

 

Yancy unfolded his arms. “To beg properly, you use your body, pet,” he said. “You’re allowed to move.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Chuck said, and placed his hands in front of him on the carpet. Then, looking up at Yancy, at once hesitant and eager, he slowly crawled forward until his hands were at Yancy’s feet. Then, he bent down to the ground, as much as he could, lifting his ass up in the air. And kissed the tips of Yancy’s shoes. “Please, sir,” Chuck repeated. “Please punish me. I want to be good, sir.”

 

Yancy drew a shaky breath. Fuck, the boy was so gorgeous like this. Just the sight of him begging like that with those sweet words made Yancy hard and he couldn’t feel bad or guilty for it anymore, not with the way Chuck was prostrating himself before Yancy.

 

And just then, Chuck looked up again and his gaze landed right on the noticeable bulge in Yancy’s trousers. And smiled. “Am I useful to you, sir?” he said, with what Yancy could freaking swear was a naughty smile. Jesus, kid.

 

“You’re not as pathetic as I thought, pet,” Yancy answered. “Now sit up.”

 

Chuck sat up in one flowing, graceful movement, looking all blushed and breathy and fuck, Yancy hadn’t really known how today would go but he really hadn’t expected… this.

 

“I’m going to discipline you now,” Yancy continued. “Do you know why?”

 

Chuck nodded eagerly. “So I can be a good boy, sir. So I can earn my reward.”

 

Boy was smiling.

 

“That’s right,” Yancy said. He held out the clamps to Chuck, making sure the boy took them in visually. Then, he positioned both of them open over Chuck’s nipples, and let them pinch down simultaneously.

 

Chuck let out the most wonderful little shriek.

 

“How’s that feel, pet?” Yancy grinned.

 

“Aaahh... sir…” Chuck whimpered. And Yancy saw the boy struggle not to admit that it hurt. Those clamps were fierce and  though not everyone had equally sensitive nipples, he was willing to bet that with the boy already so tense and excited, the clamps were causing considerable pain. Even more to Chuck, who wasn’t used to it.

 

But the boy pressed his lips tightly together, only the sound of a muffled whine coming out of him, trembling.

 

“Well?” Yancy pressed. “I asked you a question, pet.”

 

“It’s… it’s okay, sir,” Chuck said in little more than a squeak, biting his lip.

 

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Yancy inquired, raising an eyebrow. Oh, this was so much fun.

 

Chuck blinked, looked up at Yancy, and narrowed his eyes. Yancy could see his impressionable but intelligent young mind working, and simply hoped.

 

“No, sir,” Chuck said eventually.

 

Yancy smiled. He flicked at one of the clamps with index finger and thumb and Chuck yelped. “Are you _sure_ , pet?”

 

“Nnnhhh… yes... no... it doesn’t hurt, sir,” Chuck panted.

 

Chuck’s stubbornness was both adorable and enticing. Yancy wanted to force it all out of the boy, and yet, it seemed the harder he pushed the kid, the more he began to push back.

 

“Good,” Yancy said. “Then you can take a little more, can’t you? A strong boy like you. Turn around and lift your ass up.”

 

It was hard to miss the gasp and shiver of apprehension that went through Chuck, but the boy obeyed, turning around carefully on his hands and knees, hissing when the clamps swung back and forth, the motions bringing forth more pain.

 

Yancy took a thin wooden cane from the drawer, positioned himself by Chuck’s side, pulled down the boy’s shorts to expose his buttocks, and swung.

 

Chuck cried out, shuddering all over. So lovely. The thin cane gave a sharper sting and complemented the feel of the clamps nicely. Yancy licked his lips. It had really been too long since he got to play like this. And it seemed like Chuck could take it… he looked forward to more, looked forward to training the boy further. Eventually, Chuck would be able to handle just about the worst pain a Dominant could throw at him, save perhaps any that could cause permanent scarring—Yancy was pretty sure Pentecost wouldn’t allow his goods to be damaged like that.

 

Yancy admired the bright red line on Chuck’s ass, running the tip of the cane over the area, and Chuck whimpered.

 

“I want you to count to twenty and say thank you, pet,” Yancy said.

 

He saw Chuck’s fingers dig into the carpet, something he’d noticed before when the boy was bracing himself.

 

“Yes, sir,” Chuck replied.

 

And Yancy let loose on the boy’s ass, landing one fierce strike of the cane after the other. Rather than building up the harshness and gradually lessening it, Yancy made sure every strike was strong enough to make Chuck cry out, every new ‘thank you, sir’ louder, hoarser, shakier. Oh, he could put much more strength behind the caning than he did, but he would rather save that kind of treatment as punishment. Not for this kind of play, which required Chuck to bear the pain in order to be rewarded. Which he figured, was working pretty well. The boy had a natural inclination towards discipline, responding to it much like a… like a dog, Yancy thought, and just like that he knew what kind of pet Chuck would become. A dog misbehaved terribly when not raised strictly enough, barking too loud for attention, biting and attacking any perceived threat to its territory. But when treated with a firm, steady hand, you’d have a happy, healthy dog.

 

Though Chuck wasn’t looking particularly happy now.

 

The last blow struck him, and Chuck sobbed a ‘twenty, thank you sir’, arms shaking to keep himself upright.

 

Yancy let up, sat down on one knee, and his hand moved into Chuck’s hair, eliciting a relieved sigh from the boy. Yancy couldn’t help it, he felt so proud of the boy already. He learned so fast, was so eager, and strong. “You’re a very very good boy,” Yancy said hoarsely, running his hand down Chuck’s back. “Turn around.”

 

Chuck turned back towards Yancy, wincing from the pain, and Yancy saw his reddened eyes and wet cheeks. He cupped Chuck’s face and ran his thumbs over the boy’s cheekbones, wiping away the tears, and kissed him. Sat back a little, gazed at the boy and then, really couldn’t hold back anymore. Chuck looked so beautiful, tears mixed with desire in his large, green eyes.

 

“Such a pretty boy,” Yancy breathed, and kissed Chuck again, pushed his tongue against Chuck’s lips and Chuck readily parted them to let Yancy in, moaning as Yancy’s tongue rubbed against his, shivering in Yancy’s hands.

 

Yancy broke off the kiss just a few seconds to whisper, “You may kiss me back, pet,” and leaned in again and this time Chuck returned his affection fully, lapping his tongue against Yancy’s, moaning softly into their kiss, hungrily nipping and pressing on Yancy’s lips.

 

“Do you like this, pet?” Yancy mumbled against Chuck’s lips with a slight smile.

 

“Ah… yes, sir,” Chuck breathed.

 

Yancy smiled and continued to kiss Chuck, and it took considerable effort to pull himself away from the boy. He wanted to do so much more—slide his hand down, feel the boy’s stiffened cock in the palm of his hand, free it from its trappings, work all these wonderful sounds out of Chuck as he brought the boy to climax… but it was too early for any of that.

 

 

Yancy let Chuck go and sat on the bed, willed away the heavy arousal brimming in his veins as best he could, ignoring his own need. This was about training Chuck, and everything the boy got from him, he’d have to earn. No matter what Yancy wanted to take. This wasn’t… that kind of relationship. And if Yancy’s head hadn’t been thick and cloudy with desire he might’ve felt guilty now but all he got was a pang of distaste somewhere far in the back of his mind, barely a blip on the radar of his consciousness.

 

“You’ve been such a good boy,” Yancy sighed. “You’ve earned your big reward now, pet.”

 

Chuck looked surprised at that. Perhaps the boy thought the kissing was his reward? Oh, it was definitely more than that. Meanwhile, the nipple clamps were still on, and at this point Yancy knew they would hurt a lot more when taken off than when kept on, and he was going to save that for the right time.

 

“Take off your shorts,” Yancy said, and Chuck complied, pulling the skimpy piece of clothing the rest of the way off. The boy couldn’t suppress a groan as his hands brushed over his erection.

 

Entirely naked, Chuck sat on the floor as he had when Yancy had first come into the room, kneeling, knees spread apart and arms behind his back, looking up at Yancy expectantly.

 

“Beautiful pet,” Yancy said with a sly smile, leaning forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “Show me how you pleasure yourself. Keep your eyes on me. And... do not come until I allow it.”

 

Chuck’s pupils grew dark, and Yancy couldn’t tell whether it was fear or lust. Perhaps both.

 

Hesitant, Chuck unfolded his arms and slid his right hand towards his dick. Which, Yancy had to admit, looked as pretty as the rest of the boy. It wasn’t at its potential full size yet—Chuck still had a few years of testosterone-fueled growth to go—and, to Yancy’s delight, wasn’t circumcised. The tip was bright red and wet with precum, the shaft high and hard, balls already tightened a little.

 

Chuck wrapped his hand around the base and sighed, eyes almost closing until he remembered Yancy’s instruction and his gaze locked with Yancy’s. Which ignited another fierce blush that surged from his cheeks down to his shoulders, lighting up the freckles on his skin.

 

The boy began to jack off with long, firm strokes, pausing after a few and slicking up his hand with saliva. Yancy shivered at the sight of Chuck’s tongue wetting his hand from palm to fingertips, and Chuck was looking at him, noticing Yancy’s excitement with a glint in his eye. Clearly the kid was pleased that Yancy was pleased. With his owner’s reaction evidently boosting Chuck’s confidence he increased the speed of his strokes, twisting his hand at the tip, pressing the pads of fingers along the sensitive edges. Chuck’s breaths became shallow and quick, his body tensing as he built up to his orgasm. And never looked away from Yancy.

 

Chuck’s hips began to jerk up into his fist, his free hand digging into the skin of his thigh, and he wasn’t saying anything, just moans and breaths, and then his jaw set and his gaze flared up. “I’m… I’m almost.. sir,” he gritted out.

 

Yancy smiled. “Hold it in, pet. Don’t stop stroking.”

 

Chuck ground his teeth together more, tensing up with a sharp breath, eyes still on Yancy. He continued to stroke himself, almost painfully now, his thick reddened cock twitching in his grip, his body shuddering with each pump of his fist.

 

Yancy climbed off the bed and hovered over Chuck. “Keep going,” he said, sinking down in front of Chuck on one knee.

 

“So close… sir,” Chuck gasped. “Please…”

 

Yancy licked his lips. “Such a pretty boy,” he whispered. “Come for me, baby.”

 

Chuck’s fist tightened around his length and he let out a strangled cry, convulsing and coming all over his hand and chest.

 

Yancy pulled the nipple clamps off.

 

Chuck screamed.

 

“Look at me, pet, and don’t stop,” Yancy said, loud and commanding, and Chuck obeyed, continuing to jerk himself through his orgasm as pain and pleasure coursed through him and he was shaking and crying, smiling and gasping and it was such a delicious sight.

 

When Chuck squeezed out the last drops he collapsed on the floor, still looking up at Yancy.

 

Yancy smiled. “Good boy,” he breathed, chest tightening with want and affection. This was only the beginning. Chuck would continue to experience pain and pleasure together until he could barely differentiate between them, not being able to experience one without the other. He’d be even more beautiful.

 

Yancy still ignored his own need, dick now painfully hard inside his trousers, but he figured he’d wrap up today’s session with Chuck and then handle it himself.

 

When he gauged Chuck had gathered himself again, Yancy rose to his feet. “Sit up, pet,” he said, and Chuck swiftly obeyed, shakily kneeling in front of Yancy.

 

Yancy ran his hand through Chuck’s hair, cupping his jaw with the other. “You did very well today, pet,” he said, and leaned forward, placing another kiss on Chuck’s lips.

 

“Owner,” Chuck whimpered, “Please…”

 

“What is it, pet?” Yancy said, surprised Chuck was still begging after all that. He leaned forward a bit more, and Chuck did as well, until their cheeks brushed together and Chuck’s lips were on his ear.

 

“ _Yancy_ ,” Chuck whispered. “Thank you.”

 

Yancy swallowed, hard, not expecting Chuck to use his name, much less thank him. He leaned back a little and searched Chuck’s eyes, trying to find… something.

 

Slowly but surely reality was creeping back into his mind, the reality of what he was doing and what was happening to Chuck, even if desire was still pulsing heavily in his veins. Wanted to throw the boy down right there if he could, and yet...

 

His mouth formed the boy’s name, not even a whisper, not speaking it. Chuck hadn’t addressed him in their roles, it meant something, it solidified Yancy’s suspicion that the boy had changed and now it unsettled him rather than excited him. He debated whether to lean in again, ask the kid, doubt stronger than the fear of reprimand.

 

But just then the door opened, and Mako stepped inside.

 

“You’re done for today,” she said. “Chuck, go clean yourself up.”

 

Chuck almost moved to sit up, but then glanced up at Yancy, clearly not obeying Mako until Yancy would allow it. And that was almost more than Yancy could handle. He nodded at Chuck. “Go get clean, pet,” he said. “I’ll see you next time.”

 

Chuck bit his lip, brow furrowing, and he looked sad, before getting up and disappearing into the bathroom. Mako waited until she heard the water running to approach Yancy.

 

First thing she did was glance down at his hard-on. “Do you want me to get someone to take care of you?” she asked.

 

Yancy almost did a double take at that. And yeah, duh, he was at the PPDC, how would there _not_ be someone to take care of him?

 

But he didn’t want to. Didn’t want… anyone else. The tightness in his chest wasn’t going away and he thought of the vulnerable, intense boy whose soft white ass was littered with red welts and who came so beautifully in front of him.

 

_Fuck._

 

And if Mako or Pentecost found out, they wouldn’t let him continue to work with Chuck. Emotionally compromised, and all that.

 

“Er… yeah,” Yancy said. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

 

As Yancy’s hands tangled into the hair of a pretty young man who’d introduced himself as Jin, groaning as the hooker’s hot wet mouth enveloped his dick, all Yancy could think about was Chuck.

  
  
  


**Scene 11 - Mako**

  
  


Rubbing her temples, Mako walked into her office and switched on the haptic interface embedded in the black synthetic material of the desk. Four large displays lit up and she tuned into today’s camera feed of Chuck’s training room.

 

As the SEO it typically wasn’t her responsibility to monitor training sessions. They left that up to the Training Officers, Sasha and Aleksis Kaidonovsky. But sensei had requested her personal involvement with Chuck’s training. The boy did not take to her at all, and Mako was not sure whether she was of any help to Chuck. But sensei wished it.

 

How Chuck was responding to Yancy was a pleasant surprise for everyone. He readily followed the man's commands and after a few more sessions Chuck would be ready to work with other trainers as well as resume his education, and socialize with other pets.

 

The footage of Chuck and Yancy’s session was... interesting. She had seen many sessions like it, and yet, the two of them were different. There was an energy about them, almost visible, the way their bodies responded to each other. And that was worrying, because Yancy shouldn't get too attached. He was a trainer, a hired Dom, not a partner. And Chuck should be able to work with other trainers and Doms as well. Mako resolved to observe them even more carefully.

 

The way Yancy ran his hand into Chuck’s hair though, the firmness of his caning, and the way he made Chuck jack off in front of him...

 

Mako squirmed in her seat as the videos continued to play, occasionally switching perspective and changing the audio volume, getting increasingly flushed, her hand tugging at the hem of her skirt. When Chuck came as Yancy yanked the clamps off the boy’s nipples she gasped, paused the playback and slid a hand inside her underwear.

 

Mako bit her lip feeling how wet she was. She didn’t usually get off like this... would go see Sasha or one of the Wei boys for it. But like this, in the dark, watching Yancy and Chuck, stirred up feelings she usually kept buried.

 

She slid her other hand between her legs as well and began to finger herself the way she loved it best; two fingers rubbing around the sensitive edge of her cunt, two fingers pressing down hard on her clit, massaging it in small circles.

 

Mako gasped, staying quiet, the way she used to when she was younger and masturbating and didn't want sensei in the next room to hear. It's a habit she found hard to break and Sasha was one of the few who could actually work some sounds out of her.

 

She put her legs up on the desk trying to get better reach, craving to shove her fingers deeper inside, lifting her hips up. Thought about how Yancy had scraped the tip of his shoe against Chuck’s erection, how he’d rewarded Chuck, watching him with that intense gaze.

 

She was getting close, fast, sparing no thought for teasing or slowing down. She wanted to come badly, knew exactly where to touch, circle and press to get there.

 

Losing herself to the mounting sensations, slow waves building up inside her, her mind reached for other images, fantasies, the ones she didn't tell anyone about, couldn’t.

 

"<Sensei>," she whispered, "<Please, sensei...>"

 

She imagined sensei, pushing her down on her knees, making her beg for it, turning her over on her stomach, pulling her legs apart and thrusting deep inside her _—_

 

"<Sensei, I'm coming!>"

 

Mako gushed all over her hands, wetting her panties, her skirt. the chair. She shivered, feeling her cunt spasm around her fingers and then she rubbed over her clit, hard and fast, chasing the next wave. Her second orgasm came fast, wetter than the first, and it still wasn't enough; she shoved her fingers inside again—and her foot hit the playback panel and the video began, volume up to the loudest setting.

 

“ _Yancy. Thank you."_

 

Mako froze, third orgasm forgotten, wiped her hands on her already ruined skirt and reached for the rewind button on the haptic keyboard.

 

Chuck, leaning forward, whispering in Yancy’s ear, using his first name. And Yancy not reprimanding him. Mako's eyes narrowed and her hands flew over the keyboard, navigating to older footage. Skipped through the video until she spotted Yancy pressing his cheek against Chuck’s, then turned up the volume.

 

“ _I’m glad you’re trusting me. They won’t let you out of here until you’ve finished your training.”_

 

Mako shook her head in disbelief. They’d been well aware of Yancy’s contact with Scott Hansen before they hired him, but the contract was very clear about his communication towards Chuck. Any mention of getting Chuck ‘out’ was absolutely detrimental to the boy’s training. Even if Yancy may have only said it to get Chuck’s cooperation, it was still way out of bounds. Clearly Yancy had also underestimated the sensitivity of their audio equipment, as if a whisper would escape their attention.

 

Mako went back to the footage from their first meeting.

 

“ _I’ve come to get you out of here, Chuck. Your uncle sent me.”_

 

“ _Play along. This room is bugged, every room is. Don’t let them suspect anything. Trust me and follow my lead, okay?”_

 

Mako shut off the interface, went to the bathroom to get cleaned up and then headed straight for sensei’s office.

  
  


* * * 

  
  


Mako halted just outside sensei’s office, picking up raised voices inside. It wasn’t her style to eavesdrop, but in this case the information she had couldn’t wait, and barging in would be impolite. So, she politely waited outside, and overheard the heated argument.

 

“ _Stacks, this drug is still experimental! Think of the boy’s age! We don’t even know what the long-term effects are gonna be.”_

 

“ _It has proven its effectiveness, Tamsin. Chuck cooperated with Becket, even actively participated in the training session. We’re making real progress.”_

 

“ _And you think that makes it okay? This isn’t right, Stacks. Even if it’s for her sake, we can’t _—_ ”_

 

“ _We do what we have to, Tam. You know that. If you can’t do your job, I will find someone to replace you.”_

 

The most horrible sunken feeling came over Mako, and she lifted a hand to her mouth, feeling like she was going to throw up. Without bothering to hear the rest of the conversation she ran off towards the nearest bathroom.

 

That night, Mako curled up in her bed, seeking the warmth but unable to sleep, her eyes wide open in the dark. Her mind was reeling, going in circles. If there was any truth to what she had heard… it meant that Tamsin had been drugging Chuck, with something, something that made the boy cooperate. And Mako had seen the state Chuck was in after he got out of the doctor’s office: tense, emotional, and sporting an erection. The implications were making her sick to her stomach, even after nothing was left inside it.

 

How could sensei do such a thing? To consider training Chuck when the boy was unwilling was already a decision Mako had trouble with. But this… how could he do this? What had happened to her sensei? To the man who had saved her, raised her, made her into who she was… a man she respected, loved, and wanted in ways he would never want her.

 

It made her feel sick, and broke her heart, and for the first time since the day that sensei had saved her from Onibaba, Mako cried.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


_December 20th, 2021._

  
  


**Scene 12 - Raleigh**

  
  


It had been well over a week since Chuck arrived in the mansion, naked and chained and in a cage, and so far Raleigh had managed to get him to walk up straight and eat food with cutlery, off the plate, at a table, instead of a bowl or plate on the floor. Oh, and he was actually tolerating clothes now.

 

He couldn’t get Chuck to stop calling him ‘sir’ or ‘Master’, though, and after repeatedly pointing it out Chuck had just whined and quit talking and that didn’t help either. So Raleigh had figured he’d just let Chuck call him that, for now.

 

The first night with Chuck had been… trying. The kid had refused to go to sleep without Raleigh there, and when Raleigh had climbed into bed with him Chuck had started to grind against his leg and whimpering, hard and everything. And Raleigh would’ve found that ridiculously sexy if the situation had been any different, but then he had to figure out how to tell Chuck no without scaring him off.

 

Somehow, eventually, they’d fallen asleep… Chuck curled up against him the whole time, making whining sounds, arms and legs twitching as he dreamt.

 

The next day hadn’t been much better, either. At least Chuck quickly understood that Raleigh was averse to his attempts to, well, initiate sex—Raleigh wouldn’t call it seducing, not really, now that he suspected Chuck wasn’t acting on his own desires. And as sexy and pretty and _limber_ as the boy was, if Raleigh was going to do anything with him it was going to be on equal ground, not as a… Master, or whatever.

 

So Chuck had stopped clawing at his pants and mouthing for his dick which certainly helped Raleigh feel less uncomfortable. There were still the kisses, though.

 

It had happened somewhere after lunch, when Chuck had been silently eating at the coffee table in Raleigh’s room—from a plate on the floor, because he wouldn’t accept it otherwise, looking very pensive. Then looked up at Raleigh with these big, soulful eyes.

 

“Master… you said… you don’t want me to serve you,” Chuck said, blushing as he said it. “Am… am I not good?”

 

Raleigh put down the slice of waffle he was about to put into his mouth. And swallowed anyway, because he still wasn’t sure how to explain this to the boy. He was afraid he might say something that… set him off somehow.

 

“Chuck, no, you’re… you’re good, okay? You’re good,” Raleigh said, and that must’ve been at least somewhat the right thing to say because Chuck’s face lit up.

 

“But I don’t… you don’t have to serve me,” Raleigh went on. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

 

Chuck bit his lip, looked away in thought again, brow knitting together. Eventually he looked up again. “But sir…I want…” and then he blushed fiercely, looking away again, making himself small.

 

And that was different than before, when Chuck had tried to start anything, he had been pretty assertive about it.

 

“Is there something you want, Chuck?” Raleigh said, leaning forward a little. “For you, not for me, right?”

 

Chuck didn’t look up, instead, curling his fingers into the carpet. “You are a handsome Master,” the boy said softly, blushing even more.

 

Raleigh sighed. It was so difficult to know whether Chuck was… okay, if what he wanted was real and not some weird messed up thing he’d learned in his ‘training’. Chuck didn’t even know, maybe, so how would Raleigh? He really didn’t want to take advantage of the boy. And maybe he should just keep his distance more, let Tendo take care of the kid until Yancy got back.

 

“I… I want to…” Chuck looked up and didn’t finish what he wanted to say. Instead, he crawled towards Raleigh and put his hands on Raleigh’s knees, palms up and open.

 

Raleigh knew this. Sure, he didn’t have a lot of experience in this sort of thing—that was more to Yancy’s taste—but this gesture was familiar to him. Chuck was asking him for permission for something he couldn’t express in words.

 

Raleigh hesitated. He didn’t want to affirm Chuck’s behavior as a pet. Wanted to lift him right off his feet and onto the couch, tell him to act like a normal person. But Chuck wasn’t ready, couldn’t be, and Raleigh instinctively felt that if he pushed Chuck like that the boy would take it as some kind of rejection. So, for now… if this was the way Chuck could express himself best, he’d go along with it.

 

“Yes, it’s okay, Chuck,” he said. “You can go ahead.”

 

Chuck’s eyes met Raleigh’s. The boy licked his lips, and then pushed himself up from Raleigh’s knees, arching forward and gave him a chaste, fleeting kiss on the lips. Then sank back down to the floor as quickly as he’d jumped up, eyes flitting towards Raleigh before avoiding his gaze and staring at the carpet again.

 

Chuck’s kiss lingered on his lips with a soft tingle, and Raleigh’s fingers moved unthinkingly to his mouth. And a weird flush rose to his cheeks.

 

“Chuck… you want to… kiss me?” Raleigh said, a bit shakily, because it was a weird thing to say, in their situation, the way they’d started out. Was this really something Chuck wanted? It seemed he kept asking himself that question over and over.

 

Chuck’s hands wrung at his knees and he looked up. “Y-yes, sir,” he stammered. “Is that… good?”

 

Raleigh’s hand twitched at his side. He ached to run his fingers through Chuck’s hair, pull him close, tell him it was okay, he was good, he didn’t have to worry. But he just… didn’t know if it was the right thing to do.

 

“It’s… it feels good,” Raleigh hazarded, and to that Chuck burst into a wonderful smile, the kind that gave him dimples and the kind that made Raleigh’s chest feel really warm, like there was a fireplace in there that lit up as soon as the curved valleys in Chuck’s cheeks made their appearance.

 

“But, Chuck, is it… it’s what you want? Not because I like it,” Raleigh said. “I, I mean… you want to kiss me… why, for yourself?”

 

Chuck blushed. “I want to because… it’s nice, Master,” he said. Gaze flitted up at Raleigh, away again. So shy it was almost painful. When acting like a pet, Chuck was all assertive, but this… like he maybe thought he wasn’t even allowed to want things himself, something like that. It made Raleigh sad to think that’s how Chuck was now, like he wasn’t a whole person anymore, and it made him angry. His thoughts went to Yancy and how he better have a real fucking great explanation for all of this.

 

“Can I… again? Sir?” Chuck said, his voice so soft Raleigh only barely caught it.

 

“You want to kiss me again?” Raleigh wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. Remembered how he wanted to keep his distance, he should be the one drawing the lines here, but… well, maybe he could make this work somehow. It was a long shot, and it might be completely the wrong thing to do, but he had to try.

 

Raleigh got up from the sofa and reached his hand down to Chuck. “Okay,” he said. “But if you want to kiss me, you’ll have to stand up. And promise me you’ll keep standing and walking up.”

 

Maybe he was just telling Chuck what to do like others did before him, maybe this wasn’t the way at all. But all he knew was that he wanted Chuck to get up off his knees, to look him in the eye at the same level, to carry himself with more… esteem than he had so far.

 

Raleigh figured, getting someone to stand up straight might at least be the first step to getting them to stand up for themselves.

 

Chuck’s eyebrows went up high, and he looked scared, shocked.

 

But then, some kind of determination worked its way into his face. Chuck clenched his jaw, frowned, and rose to his feet in one gracious movement, unfolding from the floor into a young man who stood as tall as Raleigh did.

 

Raleigh smiled. Yeah, he took a risk, but here Chuck stood, and he didn’t look worse off for it.

 

“May I kiss you now… sir?” Chuck said, and it just came out way different somehow.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Chuck leaned forward, and softly pressed his lips against Raleigh’s again. Just lingered there, for a few seconds, and Raleigh didn’t do anything else but press back a little, letting Chuck take control of what he wanted.

 

And oh, how much he wanted to pull Chuck in close, kiss him fiercely, get the feel of Chuck’s body on his hands… but Raleigh willed himself calm, reminded himself of Chuck’s situation. He couldn’t do that. But if Chuck wanted—maybe needed—a kiss or two from him, the way he asked… it seemed okay.

 

Eventually Chuck pulled away, blushing, his eyes searching for approval in Raleigh’s.

 

“Was that good?” Raleigh asked, almost before Chuck might ask the same thing.

 

And there were those dimples again. “Yeah.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


The entire week had been like that. He hadn’t been able to get Chuck further than standing up and walking around and eating at the table. But that was enough. Every now and then, Chuck would ask him for a kiss. Shy and quiet at first, then after a few days, a bit more insistent, which delighted Raleigh.

 

Somewhere around the fourth day Chuck had wrapped his arms around Raleigh and pulled him in, angling his face a little, his kisses more pressing than before. No tongue, and that was fine. Raleigh simply followed Chuck’s directions, and he was glad the boy didn’t seem entirely lost when given the choice.

 

The nights were difficult, particularly for Raleigh. Chuck somehow managed to curl up and fall asleep within minutes once he had figured out all Raleigh was going to do was give him a good night kiss on the head.

 

But the boy had nightmares. Lots of them. Raleigh was unable to wake him up from any of them, and Chuck would simply lie there kicking, groaning, crying, shouting the names of people Raleigh didn’t know but sure wish he did so he could hurt them for what they did to Chuck. And when Chuck didn’t have nightmares, he’d be grinding into Raleigh, moaning and whatnot, and Raleigh had to carefully peel Chuck off him and go take care of himself in the shower.

 

Today, Yancy was coming back, and Raleigh was really looking forward to getting an explanation or two out of his brother. Raleigh was in his room, watching Chuck out of the corner of his eye—he’d got the boy to read books, the old paper ones they still had in the family library, and somehow it was delightful to see the kid get all absorbed into them curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea nearby.

 

Then, a knock on the door. Not Tendo’s usual thrum of the knuckles, either. And as Raleigh got up off his seat, a familiar voice echoed through his room.

 

“Rals! You around? Tendo told me you’ve been hanging out here all the time _—_ “

 

Yancy turned the corner into the lounge room.

 

Raleigh’s hands seized Yancy’s collar and he smacked him into the nearby wall before Yancy could process what was going on.

 

Behind him, Raleigh heard Chuck’s tea glass shatter on the floor.

 

Yancy’s gaze went over Raleigh’s shoulders, to Chuck, and then back to Raleigh, whose eyes were all fire and rage at his older brother.

 

“Talk. _Now._ ” Raleigh growled. He’d prepared a better statement than that. But now, all he could manage were uncomplicated, single-syllable words.

 

Yancy’s mouth opened to say something, then closed, as Chuck had walked up behind Raleigh and was looking him in the eye.

 

Raleigh followed Yancy’s gaze, and his hold on Yancy wavered when he saw the look in Chuck’s eyes.

 

“Chuck…?” Raleigh started.

 

Chuck briefly glanced at Raleigh, then back at Yancy. And knelt down, with the same fluid movement he’d risen to his feet a week ago. His hands touched the tips of Yancy’s shoes.

 

“Owner.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck's training is completed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER. Serious dub-con, physical abuse, mental abuse, general fucked-up-ness.
> 
> I'm sorry if I made you think things were going to get better for Chuck. They're really, really not.
> 
> Also, this chapter is all Chuck/Yancy. But not in the yay squee fun way. Their relationship is fundamentally totally screwed up.

_December 2021_

 

**Scene 13 - Raleigh**

 

Raleigh staggered back in shock, and it seemed the world inside the room narrowed down to Yancy and Chuck, and he was left outside, a spectator not even able to speak.

 

Chuck looked up at Yancy, smiling. Had called him ‘owner’. And Yancy was now smiling back. Ran his hands through the boy’s hair. Leaned down. And kissed him.

 

Raleigh remembered the taste of Chuck’s lips on his and he was reeling, nerves set alight with a dangerous mix of anger, confusion and jealousy.

 

“W-what…” he stammered, but neither Yancy nor Chuck reacted, still caught up in each other.

 

Chuck wrapped his arms around Yancy’s legs and nuzzled his face in Yancy’s thighs.

 

“You missed me, haven’t you?” Yancy said, softly stroking Chuck’s hair.

 

Chuck nodded against the fabric of Yancy’s suit slacks. “Yes, sir,” he whispered.

 

And only then the two of them turned their gaze towards Raleigh.

 

“Did Rals take good care of you, baby?” Yancy said.

 

Raleigh sucked in his breath sharply, smashing his teeth together with a loud clack. What the _fuck_ was going on? He wanted to shout something, anything, but couldn’t find the words, not knowing where the hell to start.

 

And Chuck _pouted_. “Master Raleigh is nice… but he only let me kiss him,” Chuck said. With an all-too familiar naughty glint in his eye.

 

Raleigh was pretty much trembling. “Yance… you better fucking…” he gritted, voice raw and low. Raleigh felt like was about to throw something through the wall or the window. Like the fucking coffee table.

 

Yancy cupped Chuck’s jaw. “Now, pet… are you sure it was only kissing?”

 

Chuck bit his lip, meeting Yancy’s gaze. Then briefly looking back at Raleigh. “I… sucked him off too, sir,” he admitted. “‘s a thank you.”

 

Yancy laughed. “Must have caught him off guard to get that far, pet,” he said, not at all unsettled by Chuck’s confession.

 

Raleigh _snapped_.

 

Adrenaline-fueled rage burst through his veins and in a blur he had yanked Chuck away from Yancy, slammed his full body into Yancy’s chest and threw them both to the floor, grabbing Yancy’s tie with one hand in a near-choking grip, his other hand threatening to punch. It was only the deep love and loyalty he felt towards his older brother that kept him from ramming his fist into Yancy’s face.

 

“What the fuck is going on, Yance?!” Raleigh slammed his fist down next to Yancy’s head instead. “Owner? Pet? I was supposed to _take care_ of him? What the _fuck_ does that mean!?” Another punch to the floor. “You knew this and you sent him to me?!”

 

As Raleigh lifted his arm again, a steel grip wrapped around his wrist. He looked up and saw Chuck there, standing up and everything, frowning. “Don’t hurt Yancy,” he said. With a voice about two octaves lower than Raleigh was used to hearing and a great deal more threatening.

 

Raleigh’s renewed confusion turned his anger into despair. None of this made any fucking sense anymore. He slumped back, and when Chuck let go, he buried his face in his hands.

 

“Yancy, what the hell,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

 

Yancy sighed, sat up. “Sorry, Rals,” he said. “I got caught up seeing Chuck again, and just…”

 

Raleigh climbed off Yancy, got up, hesitated, and then most definitely did not give Yancy a hand. So Chuck stepped forward instead, reached out his arm to lift Yancy up, and when that was done he seemed about ready to kneel down again. Only Yancy quickly shook his head, and then, Chuck remained standing.

 

Raleigh’s head was starting to hurt. “Just, what? Fuck… can you even explain any of this shit to me?”

 

Yancy’s hand clasped down on Raleigh’s shoulder. “It’s a long story, baby bro. Think you better sit down for this one.”

 

“Think I need a fucking drink,” Raleigh mumbled, rubbing the top of his nose, between the eyes, where a small, throbbing headache was settling in.

 

He glanced at Chuck. Before Yancy was going to tell his story or whatever, he needed to hear it from the boy himself. “Were you messing with me the whole time, Chuck?”

 

A pained expression crossed the boy’s face, which Raleigh hoped was at least a measure of an honest response.

 

“It’s not like that, sir,” Chuck replied. It felt weird to have Chuck call him sir still, with a low rumbling voice and his entire posture different. Raleigh had trouble believing this was the same kid who’d been crying in his arms a week ago. And… well, fuck. It wasn’t all bullshit, right? You could fake a lot, but nightmares? Raleigh sighed.

 

“Whatever,” he mumbled, and sat down on the sofa, ignoring the mess of glass shards and spilled tea on the floor.

 

Yancy approached them with a bottle of quality Irish scotch and three glasses, setting them on the table and pouring half an inch of liquor into each glass.

 

Raleigh glanced at Chuck. The boy really wasn’t old enough to drink yet. But then, he wasn’t old enough to… do any of this.

 

Raleigh took a big gulp, gasping as the full burning taste of the liquor sloshed through his mouth and down his throat.

 

“I’m sitting down and I got a drink,” he muttered. “So now’s a good time to start talking, bro.”

 

Yancy took a swig as well. Chuck, Raleigh noticed, first glanced at Yancy, who then nodded, before taking a sip.

 

He was real goddamn curious what kind of explanation Yancy was going to offer for this whole mess. 

  


_October 2019_

 

**Scene 14 - Mako**

 

Mako had been walking around with a sick feeling in her stomach for days, trying to hide her inner turmoil from those around her. Stacker-sensei had not noticed, at least, but Tamsin had sized her up and down a few times. She had avoided Sasha, knowing the impressive woman was able to get at her inner workings better than anyone.

 

But Yancy was showing up tonight for another training session with Chuck. And Mako had run out of time. If she wanted to do anything—change anything—it would have to be now.

 

Mako walked into Tamsin’s practice.

 

“Tamsin, I need to talk to you,” she began.

 

Tamsin looked up from her desk, putting away the file she’d been reading. “Figured as much,” she said.

 

Mako swallowed. There was no way around this. She’d gone over this a thousand times in her head, and she needed more answers, something to quell the churning doubt and uncertainty in her mind. She would have to trust Tamsin—she knew the doctor had the same reservations, had argued with Stacker-sensei. Tamsin had the answers she sought.

 

“I… overheard you and sensei four days ago,” Mako started. “I know what you are doing to Chuck.”

 

Tamsin sighed, leaned back on her chair and ran a hand through her hair. “So you heard all that,” she mumbled. “No wonder you’ve been out of it.”

 

Mako walked up to the desk. “It is wrong,” she said. “We cannot let this continue.”

 

Tamsin glanced up at Mako. “Mako-chan,” she said. “Thought you’d be with Stacks on this one.”

 

Mako blushed. She had given it much thought. Doing this would mean betraying sensei. But… sensei had betrayed her, too. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her chest hurt. And she pushed back the tears, as she had so often in the past few days.

 

She clenched her fist. “Why is sensei doing this,” she spoke softly.

 

Tamsin gave Mako a look of sympathy. “Stacker has his—”

 

“Reasons, I know!” Mako exclaimed. “But he does not tell me. Tells me to follow orders. How can I follow these orders?”

 

All the insecurity and worry she had pent up for days was forcing its way out, spilling out to Tamsin, no matter how hard she tried to hold it back.

 

“He is trying to protect you, little Mako,” Tamsin said, folding her hands together. “So am I.”

 

“I am not little anymore!” Mako said, firmly planting her hands on the desk.

 

Tamsin stayed silent, sizing Mako up again. She seemed to be trying to make up her mind. Mako waited for her to speak.

 

“Mako… can I trust you?” Tamsin ventured.

 

Mako frowned. “I am here because I trust you, Tamsin,” she replied.

 

Tamsin let out a bitter laugh. “The two of us against the old dog, huh?” She rose from her seat and walked to a small cabinet, unlocked it with a key from her key chain and pulled out a small metal box.

 

Tamsin put the box on her desk, and sighed. She opened the box, and inside it was a small bottle along with several needles.

 

“This is what I’ve been giving Chuck,” Tamsin said, a crack in her voice. She let out a long sigh. “Mutavore-B. It’s… bad stuff, Mako. And expensive.”

 

Mako stepped closer. “What is it? What does it do?” she asked, although she had a sickening suspicion.

 

“It’s a substance that combines the chemical components of sildenafil, oxytocin, serotonin and MDMA,” Tamsin said. “Or at least the components that stimulate sexual arousal and feelings of intimacy, attachment and euphoria.”

 

Mako’s brown knotted together. “It’s like a love potion,” she grimaced.

 

“More like a lust potion, but yes,” Tamsin said, rubbing her forehead. A slight shiver went through her, and her eyes met Mako’s, almost pleading her not to continue this line of questioning. But Mako was determined to drag the truth out of Tamsin.

 

“And we made Chuck believe these were his own feelings,” Mako said, starting to feel sick again. Her nails scraped along the surface of Tamsin’s desk.

 

Tamsin let out a long, shaky sigh. “Yes. Yeah, that’s what we did.”

 

“Why, Tamsin?” Mako said, shaking, desperation in her voice. She did not want to believe this was happening, as if it was a bad dream. And realized that how she felt was nothing compared to how Chuck might feel. “Why are we doing this to him?”

 

Tamsin closed the box again.

 

“I once promised Stacks to not tell you,” Tamsin said. She put the box back into the cabinet and locked it. “... But he once promised me to run this company with integrity.”

 

With that, she locked the door to her practice, and sat down behind her desk, gesturing for Mako to sit down as well. Then she folded her hands and took a long, deep breath before looking Mako in the eyes.

 

“Ever heard of the Kaiju, Mako?”

 

Mako’s nails dug into her thighs and her eyes darkened. “Yes,” she hissed. She was never able to prove who killed her family and burnt their house down. The official report said it was an accident caused by faulty electrical wiring. But unofficial reports said something else. Dark whispers of a worldwide shadow organization, hidden beneath the surface of society, so deep that not even organized crime could get a handle on it and beyond the reach of government intelligence agencies. Operating solely through a decentralized network of assassins and agents.

 

Mako had no proof of who killed her family, but she knew. Knew her father had found a blade of a material he could not identify, with only an unknown symbol as the swordsmith’s signature. She remembered her parents fighting about it. Remembered the scent of smoke and blood at night. Running through the burning corridors of her house, trying to find someone, and only finding corpses, bloodied and blistering in the intense heat. Recognized what was left of her brothers and sisters. Remembered fire catching her hair, singeing off the locks that framed her face. Remembered diving into the pond as her childhood home exploded into flames above her. Holding her breath as a shadowed figure moved around the yard, until she thought she would die for lack of air, her chest feeling like a thousand blades were stabbing it at once.

 

Remembered pressing the red dye into her hair many years later, her hands the color of blood, and swearing revenge.

 

“Mako… what I’m gonna tell you now can’t ever leave this room,” Tamsin said. “You hear this and bury the knowledge deep inside your mind, never let anyone get it out of you. No matter how much they hurt you. Not even if they threaten to kill you. You kill yourself first. Do you get that?”

 

Mako nodded solemnly. If anything she had ever heard about the Kaiju was even remotely true, Tamsin wasn’t overreacting. “I understand,” she said.

 

“Stacker and I didn’t meet in the Air Force,” Tamsin started. “We worked for a government intelligence service. I first met his sister, Luna. She is… was… my wife.”

 

Mako raised her eyebrows in surprise. She hadn’t know Tamsin and Stacker-sensei related to each other that way. Why hadn’t she known? These were the people who saved her life and raised her. They were the closest thing she had to parents. She had expected Tamsin’s answers to give her clarity, but she only felt more betrayed.

 

“Stacker wasn’t working for a rival brothel when he rescued you,” Tamsin continued. “That was a cover. Onibaba may have been a Kaiju agent. Luna was with him on that mission. And she didn’t come back.”

 

“This is… why we didn’t tell you, little Mako. Stacker rescued you, and Luna got captured. He didn’t want you to ever blame yourself. Because it was his choice. Luna, she… she could take care of herself...” Tamsin’s voice wavered, and she closed her eyes and let out a long sigh before continuing.

 

“But the mission was a failure. A bloodbath. Onibaba’s guards killed most of the girls and boys, killed Onibaba, and then themselves. That’s what the Kaiju are capable of. Their operation was compromised, so they destroyed everything.”

 

Mako wrung her hands in her lap. This was… so much. But she was more upset that all this time, Stacker-sensei had never told her. She knew what the Kaiju could do. It was not shocking. But sensei’s betrayal and lies seem to pile up, not lessen, with every new bit of information Tamsin gave her.

 

Tamsin stayed silent now, waiting for a response. And Mako steeled herself. Focused on the question she truly wanted an answer to. What started all this.

 

“What does this have to do with Chuck?”

 

Tamsin sighed, pleading eyes meeting Mako’s. “It’s Luna. They still have her, Mako. They have, all this time. And Stacks and I, we’ve been trying to find a way to get her out.”

 

“So you sacrifice Chuck for Luna,” Mako said.

 

“Not a sacrifice,” Tamsin replied. “The PPDC… it’s an operation. We’ve been in it this whole time.”

 

The pieces of the puzzle started to come together in Mako’s mind, finally. Onibaba was a Kaiju agent; Stacker-sensei, using a rival brothel as a cover; the PPDC, an elite pet training organization.

 

Mako chose her next words very carefully.

 

“Are we training Chuck for the Kaiju?"

 

Tamsin nodded. “You’re getting the picture, little Mako. See… every organization has a boss, and so do the Kaiju. We have very little information on them. We only know they call themselves the Precursors. Maybe it’s one person, maybe many. All we know is their interest in… what the PPDC sells.”

 

“... pets,” Mako said. Sex slaves, she thought.

 

“It’s the only direct line to meeting them in person,” Tamsin said.

 

“So, Chuck is the key to getting to the Precursors?”

 

Tamsin sighed. “Maybe. It’s an awful lot to bet on a kid, isn’t it?” She bit her lip and pressed her thumbs to her brow. “…how much better than them are we at this point,” Tamsin whispered.

 

“Tamsin,” Mako said, her voice dropping in volume. “What we are doing to him… it is like… it is rape, isn’t it?”

 

Tamsin locked eyes with Mako again, and she looked desperate. “It’s… yeah,” she stuttered. “We are giving him drugs that make him think he wants it. It’s not much different than holding him down…” Her voice cracked, and Mako saw her biting back the tears the same way she did herself.

 

Mako placed her hand over Tamsin’s. “There is still time,” she said. “Yancy will be here tonight. We can still… try to fix some of this.”

 

Tamsin shook Mako off and buried her face in her hands. “No, we can’t,” she said. “It’s already too late.”

 

“W-what do you mean,” Mako said, her throat tightening, as if someone or something was pressing it shut, a shadow clutching at her lungs.

 

“Mutavore-B, the drug,” Tamsin said, shaking her head. “It’s… it binds the user to the target of their affection. Chemically, neurologically. Irreversible. Their body won’t respond to anyone else, or worse, trigger anaphylactic shock.”

 

“You are saying… Chuck Hansen is bound to Yancy Becket?” Mako said. “So he will not be able to work with other trainers… other patrons.”

 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Tamsin sighed. “It’s possible the effects with lessen over time, but that might take years.”

 

“But, that is good news,” Mako said. “I mean… that way, Chuck cannot go to the Kaiju. We can let him go—”

 

Tamsin rose from her seat, the flurry of movement sending some of the stacks of paper fluttering to the floor. “NO.”

 

Mako jumped back a little.

 

“No, we can’t,” Tamsin repeated. “What do you think will happen when he gets out, like this? Barely trained, a target for Hannibal Chau, bound to Yancy? And Stacker won’t just let him walk out. He’s still an investment.”

 

Mako wrapped her arms around herself. “Then… what do we do?”

 

Tamsin frowned, bending down to grab the paperwork that had fallen on the floor, stacking it back up on her desk.

 

“We can… continue to have Yancy train him,” Tamsin said. “Make up a reason why he shouldn’t work with others. Yancy can buy him, when Chuck’s completed his training.”

 

Mako narrowed her eyes. “But then we are still forcing him!”

 

Tamsin shook her head. “You’re not paying attention, Mako-chan. Even if we completely stop giving Chuck Mutavore-B, he will still want Yancy, at this point. Needs him, or he’ll get sick. I’m afraid that now… the best thing we can do for Chuck is leave things as they are. Telling him the truth would… it would be bad for him. I’ll slowly wean him off the drug. Yancy will continue to train him. By the time Stacker finds out about the bond, it will be too late.”

 

Mako folded her hands in her lap, looking down at her feet. “That is it? That’s all we can do?” she said, defeated.

 

“I’m sorry, little Mako,” Tamsin said. “I wish I could do more.”

 

“I am sorry, too,” Mako replied, bowing deeply to Tamsin. “I am sorry for all of us.”

  


**Scene 15 - Tamsin**

 

The door shut behind Mako, and Tamsin checked the hall camera to make sure Mako wasn’t eavesdropping this time. Then put on her headset and called Stacker.

 

“Stacks. Mako was just here. … Yeah. … I’ve contained it. … Mostly the truth. I warned you about Muta-B, didn’t I? … Think I convinced her, yes. … It’s like I said, the boy can only be trained by Yancy at this point. … Well, you should’ve thought of that before you told me to jack him full of experimental drugs. … No worries. He’ll still be useful to the operation. … I suspect she’ll talk to Yancy, though. Drop hints about buying the boy. … It’ll be fine. We’ve got plenty leverage. … Anything from the Hansens? … All right. I gotta call the boy in soon for his physical. … Yeah.”

 

Tamsin rose from her chair and walked to the locked cabinet. She took out the small box, opened it, and began to prepare Chuck’s next dose.

 

Chuck’s fate was regrettable. And so was deceiving Mako. But the mission came first. Ten years of work and preparation were coming to a close in the next few years, and Chuck was simply a part of their already significant body count. And nothing compared to the mountain of corpses the Kaiju left behind. Chuck was still alive, and with the unexpected side-effect of the Muta-B, he might even end up happy. The way Tamsin saw it, compared to the horrors she’d gone through just to get this far, compared to what the Kaiju probably did to Luna,  the boy was lucky.

 

And little Mako was a hard-working, strong young woman, whose fine hands apparently should not be sullied further with blood or semen. Stacker’s sentimentality for the girl was his weakness. Tamsin had no such qualms, but if he wanted to keep Mako out of this, so be it. For now, the situation was contained. She would keep a close eye on Mako to make sure Stacker’s protege wouldn’t take matters into her own hands.

 

Tamsin tapped her headset. “Sasha? Get Chuck ready for his physical.”

  


**Scene 16 - Chuck**

 

Chuck woke up that morning with his desire for Yancy coiling in his stomach, hot and aching, knowing that he’d see Yancy again tonight. The days after their last session had been excruciating in the most delicious way. Chuck could barely think, eat, drink or sleep without remembering Yancy’s eyes, gazing at him, staring right through him. It was as if Yancy’s glare was undressing him, undoing him; first clothes, then skin, muscle, bone, until nothing else was left but the ice blue, swallowing him whole. He was starting to feel ill with Yancy not being near him, and was delighted when this morning Mako had told him he would see Yancy tonight.

 

Mako was the one who usually brought him to the luxury training room. But instead of Mako, he was faced with a short, muscular woman with bleached-blonde hair and bright red lipstick, her hands, neck and shoulders decorated with large rings and chains. She looked like she could pick him up with her pinkie and throw him through the wall with just a glare. Chuck wasn’t sure whether he was impressed or scared. Probably a little of both.

 

“Hello, pretty boy,” she said with a thick Russian accent. “I am Sasha. Follow me, yes? Don’t make trouble or I will teach you lesson.”

 

Chuck dutifully followed her, knowing that she would lead him to Yancy. He was kind of nervous. What would Yancy do to him today? Make him do? He was both looking forward to it and apprehensive, fear and want blending together under his skin.

 

Sasha took him to Tamsin’s practice first, and Chuck gingerly let Tamsin examine him, her hands on his skin unwelcome and intrusive. He wanted Yancy’s hands on him, big and strong and warm. She gave him her usual horrible-tasting blue-tinted vitamin drink, and sent him away with Sasha. Who did not lead him to the luxury training room.

 

Instead, he followed her into an increasingly messy, dark part of the facility, until they got to a large barred metal door, which Sasha unlocked and swung open. The room inside was pitch dark. He was starting to get kind of freaked out by this, desire making way for discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Chuck said, shivering. He was wearing only a bathrobe and the room was kind of cold in addition to being dark.

 

“Come,” she said, “Not scary.” And flicked the lights on.

 

The room was, for a lack of better word, a dungeon. Chuck had never seen anything like it. It looked positively medieval, with rings sticking out of the walls, floor and ceiling; the room littered with stocks, chains, cages and metal contraptions that didn’t quite look like furniture but definitely seemed like a person could somehow fit on or inside it.

 

Sasha walked to one of the cages in the room and dragged it to the center. It was small and made of wood but looked quite sturdy, and yet Sasha handled it as if it was made of cardboard. She opened the door. “Here, boy,” she said. Chuck twitched. She was ordering him around but it was nothing like when Yancy commanded him, and he stayed firmly in place, frowning at the fierce blonde woman.

 

“Ah, Mako told me,” Sasha sighed. “You only listen to Yancy-boy.”

 

She grinned and patted the wooden bars of the cage. “Yancy will like to see you like this, good little boy in his cage, yes?”

 

Chuck blushed. “He would like that?”

 

Sasha nodded encouragingly.

 

“Okay,” Chuck said grudgingly, walking up to the cage.

 

“Not with robe,” Sasha added with a grin.

 

He didn’t exactly feel comfortable undressing in front of her, but he was getting used to this sort of thing, so he pushed past that initial surge of embarrassment he always felt when disrobing, and climbed into the cage. Ass first, because it definitely wasn’t roomy enough to turn around in, and he did want his face towards the door.

 

“Very good,” Sasha smiled, and locked the cage. “Yancy come soon. You sit here and be good boy.”

 

Chuck shivered. Those words sounded way better coming out of Yancy’s mouth. Sasha saying it just made him feel weird, and maybe a little sick.

 

And then, without saying another word, Sasha left. Flicked off the lights, and Chuck heard her bar the door.

 

He whimpered.

 

* * *

  


He wasn’t quite sure for how long he’d been in the cage. All of his limbs hurt, his hips hurt, his back hurt. His stomach hurt, because he had to go to the bathroom. He was thirsty, hungry, shivering from the cold and scared of the utter darkness.

 

Chuck rocked back and forth slowly, the only movement he could make to keep himself warm. After his initial anger over being left there alone and highly uncomfortable had faded, he tried to find something to focus on, something to give him hope. So he found himself softly repeating Yancy’s name to himself. A little flame of heat sparked to life in his chest every time Yancy’s name came out of his mouth, and he’d said it so often now it wasn’t even a name anymore, just sounds. He’d made the sound possibly thousands of times in a hundred different ways. Loud, soft, hoarse, crying, whimpering, whispering.

 

If he kept saying it often enough, Yancy would come, right? He’d come get him out of this cage, wouldn’t he? Hold him close and warm.

 

So thirsty...

 

* * *

  
  


Something had woken him up. There was light around him, and he remembered being in the dark. Didn’t remember how long, though. Why did everything hurt? Oh… he was in the cage.

 

“Yancy,” Chuck tried to say, but his throat only let out a dry crackle, and he coughed. His mouth was parched, and he licked his lips trying to get some moisture on them.

 

Only then he noticed the figure standing a few yards away, and sat up as well as he could, the imprints of the wooden bars etched into his skin in thick reddened lines.

 

Everything looked blurry. Chuck rubbed his eyes, trying to get the dried up tears and muck out. He tried to say Yancy’s name again, but it came out as a hoarse squeak.

 

“Pet,” the figure said.

 

It was Yancy. It was _Yancy_!

 

Chuck clawed at the bars of the cage. Wanted to call out his owner, but his voice was little more than a variation of whimpers and squeaks.

 

Yancy walked towards the cage, and Chuck whined again, pushing against the cage door.

 

Yancy’s hands were on the cage lock. “Have you been a good boy, pet?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Chuck said, though it was more of a cough and a whimper the way it came out. He just wanted to get out, get to Yancy.

 

Yancy opened the cage.

 

He wanted to jump out, jump all over Yancy, touch him and kiss him and—but his legs and arms wouldn’t obey, wouldn’t get up. So he crawled out, achingly, onto the cold floor, looking up at Yancy all pleading. Oh, he’d waited so long in the dark, didn’t know for how long, and it had been so cold and now his owner was here, just like Chuck knew he would, and he was so happy and delighted.

 

“Owner,” his voice finally cracked. The chiming sound of it startled him, echoing across the room. “Owner,” he repeated. “Owner, owner, please, please…”

 

Yancy kneeled down to sit in front of him. He _kneeled down_! Chuck whimpered and felt tears stinging his eyes again. Then Yancy’s arms wrapped around him, and he felt the heat blossom through his whole body, surging up, as if Yancy’s touch set him alight.

 

“Oh pet,” Yancy said softly, stroking his hair. It was so nice, and Chuck happily leaned into his owner’s touch.

 

Yancy got up again. “You must be thirsty, pet,” he said, and Chuck nodded in response. “Come.”

 

Chuck followed Yancy on his hands and knees, scraping his skin against the rough stone floor. Wished he was back in that warm room full of fluffy carpet, but this was it for now, and Yancy was here, so it was going to be okay.

 

Yancy put a bowl of water on the ground and stroked Chuck’s hair again. “Here you go, pet,” he said.

 

Chuck looked up at Yancy. Felt something fierce and angry shoot up through him. Drink from a bowl on the floor? What did Yancy think he was, a—

 

Chuck froze.

 

Looked around, up at Yancy, at the floor, back at the cage. He _was_ a dog. He’d been in the cage the whole time, he’d been so happy to see Yancy, he could barely talk, barely walk, and… he was so thirsty.

 

His shoulders shook and then the tears came, and he was unable to stop them. “Owner,” he sobbed, shaking his head. Didn’t want this, not really. Just wanted to drink, wanted to be warm. “Please, owner…”

 

Yancy’s hand was in his hair, stroking gently down his neck and down his back and up again.

 

“Pet,” Yancy said. “It’s okay. I’ll take good care of you. Don’t be afraid. You’re thirsty, aren’t you? Come on, pet. You can drink. It’s okay.”

 

Chuck shivered, shook his head again, and tensed up. “Sir… please, no,” he said, and looked up. He was hurt and felt bad and kind of ill but he was still human, wasn’t he? Wasn’t going to… drink out of a bowl, like a dog… he wasn’t a dog.

 

Yancy’s touch on his hair became a tighter grip. “Drink, pet,” he said, in a firmer tone.

 

“No, no, sir, please,” Chuck begged again, wrapping his arms around his body, cold and miserable, rocking back and forth. “Please, no, please don’t… please don’t make me do this,” he whispered.

 

Yancy yanked at his hair so hard the roots twinged like fire on his skull.

 

“ _Obey me,_ ” Yancy roared.

 

And shoved Chuck’s face into the water bowl.

 

At first he resisted, the water sloshing into his nose and eyes, coughing and limbs spasming. But Yancy’s grip was like iron on the back of his head, keeping him pressed down until he could barely breathe. Then jerked him up.

 

“ _Drink_ ,” Yancy growled, and pushed Chuck’s head down into the bowl once more, let him struggle for a bit, and then pulled his head back up again.

 

“Or do you want me to give you something else to drink?” Yancy grunted, and his free hand worked at his zipper.

 

Chuck’s eyes grew large in shock. Not sure what Yancy meant, afraid what he meant. His eyes were stinging from the water, mucus running out of his nose, almost all strength gone out of his body.

 

Yancy whipped out his cock, and let it rest limp in his hand. “Well, pet?” he said, voice as raw and sharp as a serrated blade.

 

And Chuck made the connection. He looked up at Yancy, terrified. The darkness that had been in the room was midday sun compared to the shadow that Yancy cast over him, as if Yancy’s very presence drew the life and light from his skin.

 

His lower lip trembled. And then he bowed back down to the bowl, felt Yancy’s grip loosen. Chuck stuck out his lips and tongue, and drank, lapping up the water in big gulps.

 

Behind him, he heard Yancy zip up. And then Yancy’s gentle touch was back, cascading over his head and back as if it had never left, as if his threat had never been given. “Good boy,” Yancy said hoarsely, rubbing Chuck’s back. “That’s a good boy. Drink it all up.”

 

Chuck tasted the salt of his tears back in the water.

  
  


_January 2020_

 

**Scene 17 - Yancy**

 

The white ceiling of his bedroom began to bubble up into circles of purple and green, lines and blotches, smearing out down the walls to red and orange. Euphoria filled Yancy’s body, a thick, liquid heat that lifted his soul from his tired muscles and tattered bones. As he floated up he saw the blackened vessel he left behind, laughed and cried as the eaters of death crawled into it: worms, rats and beetles, glistening with a million colors he did not have names for. Cracks formed in the ceiling as he pressed closer to it, seeing the stars beyond, the coiling universe, light and weightless as infinity itself. He reached for it, but the cracks burst, thick slimy-brown tentacles sweeping out, leaking filth into the world, circling around him, whispering of blood and darkness. Working their way into his gut, tearing him open, screams of judgment, _we know what you did Yancy, we know, Yancy, we know..._

 

* * *

 

Waking up in a pool of his own vomit and urine wasn’t the best way to start the morning, Yancy figured. And anyone else would’ve considered that a real hint to stop doing hard drugs, and praise themselves lucky to be alive.

 

Yancy was just disappointed.

 

His body, the cursed, wretched thing, insisted on continuing to breathe, shit and eat, even as his soul was rotting away on the inside. Evidently you didn’t need to have one of those to continue living.

 

The sheets had seen better days. As had the mattress.

 

He briefly considered burning the place. But insurance might ask some questions. Raleigh would, too. Yance, why did you burn down your apartment? Yance, why are you dropping acid like it’s the 1990s? Yance, why are you mentally and sexually abusing a minor?

 

Because it’s a practical study in Stockholm’s Syndrome, fuck you, Rals.

 

Yancy shoved the filthy sheets into the washing machine and dragged the mattress off the bed frame, setting it up against the wall. Would drag it to the garbage later. Well, have someone do it. Wouldn’t do to have the hotshot CEO of JaegerTech dragging stained mattresses through the streets of south LA. Fortunately, he’d kept these digs out of the paparazzi’s prying eyes, didn’t let anyone in. Hell, the only person who knew about this place was Tendo, only ‘cause Yancy couldn’t very well put ‘debauched bachelor pad’ on his company salary account, so the rent for it went out of his considerable trust fund. And Tendo managed the family’s assets. One of the smarter things mom had put into her will.

 

Yancy undressed, tossing his soiled clothes into the washer as well, and turned it on before stepping into the shower.

 

This apartment is where he stayed before he went to Chuck. This is where he came back after. The guilt that weighed down on him beforehand was never heavy enough to suppress the insidious desire in his veins, the thirst for that rush he got when he exercised his absolute power over the boy. A constant, dull throb in his body that would eventually, always, cascade into a deafening thunder, screaming at him to lash out, to push down, to tear open. And the sickest thing was, he was holding back still. Even the worst he had done to Chuck so far wasn’t as bad as the worst he knew he _could_ do. The sublime irony: in training the boy to become a dog pet, Yancy was the one who became less and less human. Came back here, tried to burn and drown the sin away. Hard liquor, acid, crack. Whatever did the trick.

 

He didn’t think Rals had picked up on it yet. Yancy hadn’t seen a lot of his baby bro after his new campaign took off and Calvin Klein had Rals’ tartan-clad ass on billboards all over the major cities, promoting their winter fashion line. So the kid was traveling around strutting on runways and banging models of all genders, whatever.

 

Hilarious that Yancy used to judge Raleigh for being a man-slut. Hadn’t realized back then that it was this twisted demon inside him, hating how Raleigh could be so happy and free about sex, when Yancy himself could only be fucked up about it, only felt the dizzying heat when another body was writhing in pain and begging underneath him.

 

At least he hadn’t fucked the kid yet. That would be the crowning achievement to their twisted relationship: Chuck on his elbows and knees, spreading his ass cheeks, begging Yancy to fuck him. No sooner than that.

 

Yancy turned off the shower, stepped out, began to dry himself off.

 

It was never like that, anyway. The sex, Yancy wanted the boy to crave, not hate; wanted it to be a reward, not a punishment. The fact that he’d drawn the line at rape was bitterly amusing, like a torturer who decided that carving up people’s skin was fine but hacking off limbs was _just wrong_.

 

He pulled on a neat pair of suit slacks and spotted a sweater in the corner of his wardrobe. Recognized it as Raleigh’s Christmas gift. Baby bro had a thing for ugly sweaters. Another life, it would’ve made him happy to look at it. Now, it was a stark remnant of a normal life, a lie wrapped in red, green, and slightly itchy fabric.

 

He’d never meant for it to get this far. Should never have started it in the first place, but he figured he had a handle on it, figured there would be an end. They only hired him to make Chuck more amenable, so that he could work with the PPDC’s own trainers, could start seeing patrons and play nice with other pets.

 

Then Mako had told him Chuck was his. That they weren’t going to involve other trainers nor anyone else. That Yancy would finish Chuck’s training, or they’d leak footage of his sessions with the boy to the press. And so his way out of this fucking mess had collapsed, even if he wanted to stop, he couldn’t. Not without taking his company and its hundreds of employees down with him, ruining Raleigh’s career, ruining his family’s name. His inability to be a decent fucking human being would destroy even more lives.

 

He brushed his teeth. Didn’t look in the mirror, on account of not having any. He couldn’t look himself in the eye, and having sharp shards lying around to stab himself with didn’t seem like a great idea either.

 

Considering what would happen if he refused the PPDC, perhaps it was okay to continue with this, even if Chuck was consistently taking the brunt of Yancy’s self-loathing and frustration. The only times Yancy felt peace was when he felt his own pain surge away, move through his arms and out of his vocal chords, out at Chuck, who was so resilient, taking it all. He hadn’t broken the boy, not yet. Would, soon; he could feel it approaching, the cracks appearing in the kid’s psyche after battering down on it for so long. It would be so sweet, so satisfying, to finally have Chuck undone by his hands.

 

He tucked his blouse into his trousers, tied his shoes and put on his coat, then texted the number the PPDC gave him.

 

On his way to the parking lot, Yancy remembered a line from the Carmina Burana, an opera that sounded deceptively high-brow and impressive with all its Latin, but sang about sex, drugs, drinking and depravity. A real reflection of his life. _Mortuus in anima, curam gero cutis._ My soul is dead, so I shall look after the flesh. So very appropriate.

 

Maybe tonight would be the night Chuck gave himself over.

 

Yancy stepped into the black car with blinded windows, and inside, Mako greeted him with not even the slightest smile.

  


_March 2020_

 

**Scene 18 - Chuck**

 

Chuck had expected Yancy to break him somewhere between excruciating pain, intolerable humiliation and intense pleasure. He thought it would happen when Yancy’s struck his bottom with a paddle until he couldn’t feel it anymore and all he could do was cry for him to stop and he wouldn’t. He thought it would happen when Yancy had forced him to urinate like a dog, lifting one leg up in the corner of the room. He was sure he’d been so close when Yancy had filled his bowels with warm water, plugged him up and made him keep it inside until he almost passed out from the pain. Because he’d held out for so long, Yancy rewarded him by sliding a finger inside, pushing at a spot inside him that gave him so much pleasure he couldn’t stop shaking. It would have been understandable to let go that way, to give it all up as the storm raged through his mind and body.

 

But when the moment came, it wasn’t loud at all. It wasn’t a consequence of immediate pain or pleasure. It was, in the end, a quiet decision that came to him as he lied curled up on the cold stone floor.

 

He’d looked around the dim room that smelled of sweat, dirt and urine. In his mind’s eye, saw the chasm open in front of him. Almost felt the edge of it run under the soles of his feet. Had closed his eyes. And stepped forward.

  


* * *

 

_July 2020_

 

He remembered when he was a boy, unblemished, ignorant and angry, a boy who walked on the back of his legs and ate from a table. He wasn’t that boy anymore. He was a pet, now. That boy had a room once, one made for people. But now he had a room made for a dog, which he was. A comfortable round bed on the floor, bowls of food and water, and holes in the floor at the far side of the room to do his business in. He made sure he was a clean dog, because his owner didn’t like the mess, so every morning when the bell rang he would get into the square cabin where the cold water and soap poured down over him, then roll around in the stack of towels until he was dry. Then put in his tail so he wouldn’t make anything dirty. He was a good dog, he knew. Owner always told him.

 

Most days were boring, and he’d just eat, sleep or run around for a bit. But the days that owner came were the best. Now that he was a good dog, owner was very nice to him. He used to be a bad dog and owner punished him a lot until he behaved. But now owner came and pulled him into owner’s lap, wrapping hands around him and touching him sweetly, tugging at his dog cock until he was hot all over and made his owner’s hand wet. And he’d always neatly lick it off, because he was a good dog.

 

But even better than the best days were those when he felt owner’s hard dick against him and owner smiled and told him it was time for his special meal. He would sit up eagerly and open his mouth wide and owner would slide his big, heavy cock into his dog’s mouth. It was the best because owner would make sounds, would be shaking and moaning and call him a good dog over and over, push into his face until owner’s taste filled his mouth, and he drank it all up.

 

For a dog’s life, things weren’t so bad.

 

* * *

 

_August 3, 2020_

 

Today was special. He felt it in his gut. Dogs had a nose for things like that. Owner came to visit him. He was all clean and washed and had his tail in and he wished he could wag it a little.

 

Owner turned the lights on in the room, which was new, and very bright.

 

“I have a gift for you today, pet,” owner said.

 

He panted and barked. A gift? He was very curious. Did he deserve a gift, though? He hoped it was because he’d been a good dog.

 

“Put your ass up,” owner said, and when he did, owner pulled out his tail. He whimpered. It felt really nice to have owner do that, but now he’d lost his tail…

 

Owner threw the tail away. He whined again.

 

“Chuck,” owner said.

 

That name sounded very familiar. Wasn’t that the name of the boy from before? He couldn’t really remember. Dogs didn’t have a very good memory.

 

“Your training as a dog is complete, Chuck,” owner said. “You can be a boy again.”

 

He felt a very sharp pain in his head, and then a warmth flooding his body. Those words… those words felt like they ripped him open somehow.

 

“ _From now on, you are a dog, and I am your owner. When I tell you you can be a boy again, you will stop being a dog. Do you understand?”_

 

He wasn’t a dog, he was a boy. He wasn’t a dog, his name was Chuck. He’d been living in this room, he’d been training, and now it was over, and he wasn’t a dog anymore.

 

His eyes searched Yancy’s, stunned, frightened. “Ah, there we go,” Yancy said. “You remember now, right?”

 

“Y-yes, sir,” Chuck whispered, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. He didn’t know how long he’d been like that. Weeks? Months? In his memory, the days seemed to blend together into one large gray mess, but he did remember.

 

Yancy’s hand weaved into his hair, and he leaned down and kissed Chuck. He hadn’t done that during the whole time he’d been a dog.

 

“Chuck, I’m so proud of you,” Yancy said. “You did so well.” And kissed him again.

 

Chuck shivered. It was all a bit too much, memories flooding back to him, his body still so used to being a dog—

 

“It’s a special day today, Chuck,” Yancy continued. He took something out of his pocket, an actual gift, wrapped in shiny red paper. “It’s your 17th birthday.”

 

Chuck blinked. Birthday… he’d kind of forgotten what that meant, too, and shook his head. “Yes, sir,” he eventually said, just to say something.

 

Yancy handed him the gift. “Happy Birthday, Chuck.”

 

Chuck hesitated. “May I… sir?”

 

Yancy nodded. “Yes, pet, of course,” he smiled.

 

Chuck tore at the wrapping paper, and then, he felt the shape of the gift in his hands, felt the tingle course through his body before his mind had fully processed it.

 

“Owner,” he gasped. Didn’t know what to say, so he held his hands up, presenting the collar to Yancy. “Owner, please.”

 

Yancy smiled, took the collar from Chuck’s hands.

 

“Chuck, when I put this collar on you, you will be mine,” Yancy said. “Not just as a pet or a dog, but as Chuck. It means I will make you mine. Do you understand?”

 

Chuck nodded, eagerly, every word of Yancy sending a shiver through him. He wanted to be Yancy’s so badly it was making his head spin. Everything he’d been through was for Yancy, for this moment.

 

“Yes, sir,” Chuck said, trembling, nodding.

 

“Do you accept my collar on you, Chuck?” Yancy said.

 

Tears welled up in Chuck’s eyes again because Yancy was using his name, not ‘pet’—and Yancy was _asking_ him, asking him to accept, not telling him or ordering him.

 

“I accept, sir,” Chuck whimpered, and arched upwards, offering his neck to Yancy.

 

Yancy’s hands strapped the collar around Chuck’s neck, placing two fingers between to make sure it wasn’t too tight to breathe. There was a small padlock at the straps and Yancy snapped it shut, taking the key out and holding it in front of Chuck. Then, he took a necklace out of his pocket—a simple, small silver chain—and hung the key on it.

 

Yancy smiled, and sat down on one knee, holding the necklace out to Chuck and bowing his head.

 

Chuck could no longer hold back the tears, letting them fall freely down his cheeks as his hands moved to take the necklace and place it around Yancy’s neck.

 

“Mine,” Yancy whispered, and rose to his feet.

 

Chuck bit his lip and looked up. “Yours,” he said, smiling through the tears.

 

Yancy reached out his hands and when Chuck took them Yancy lifted him to his feet. And he couldn’t stand up, his knees wouldn’t cooperate, so he buckled forward into Yancy, who caught him and embraced him.

 

“You can’t walk very well yet, can you,” Yancy said, and he swept Chuck off his feet and Chuck smiled and wrapped his arms around Yancy’s shoulders, leaning his head against his chest.

 

Yancy placed a kiss against his forehead. “Let me take you home.”

  


**Scene 19 - Tamsin**

 

Chuck’s dog days had been over for a week, and Yancy and the boy had been taken to the PPDC’s penthouse. A sprawling apartment at the top of the building, where the two of them lived for now.

 

The situation was contained.

 

Yancy’s skill in training Chuck was unparallelled. Tamsin had seen a lot of trainers come and go, but not even Sasha and Aleksis could manage what Yancy did. The talent he had for treading the line between gentle and harsh, pain and pleasure, safety and danger—he had slowly and precisely worked his way into the boy’s body and mind until Chuck obeyed him with question, wanted him without reservations.

 

It was this talent and skill Yancy did not understand about himself, considered it to be some sort of disease, and had tried to cope with it by increasingly dangerous outbursts of substance abuse. Which would put their operation at risk. So Tamsin had brought him in, had convinced him to spend some time at the PPDC headquarters, take a sabbatical. It had been ridiculously easy, with all of Yancy’s energy and focus towards manipulating Chuck, he hadn’t sensed how Tamsin tugged at his strings like a puppet.

 

Those boys had played their parts perfectly, and they didn’t even know it. Tamsin was particularly proud of that achievement.

 

A full report on Chuck’s physical condition was lying in front of her. He’d suffered no permanent physical damage from his training, but he was slightly underweight. She would have Aleksis establish an exercise routine for the boy together with the triplets, so he could build some muscle. He was going to need it.

 

Because Chuck’s report also showed that the effects of Muta-B were fading. Sure, the boy had formed an emotional attachment to Yancy, but there was no longer a physical or neurological need to keep them together. And that meant that their plans for Chuck were back on the rails. Stacks would be glad to hear it; he’d been desperately scouting for other profile matches and found none.

 

Pretty soon, they’d be able to complete Chuck’s official PPDC training, once Yancy took his virginity. That could be any day now, by the looks of the camera footage. She’d have to find a suitable first patron for Chuck, too. And contact Scott Hansen. He would want to know Chuck would be out soon, and being inadvertently responsible for Yancy’s cooperation would land him a considerable reward, and he could smooth things over with Herc.

 

That left only Mako to worry about. Tamsin had convinced Stacker to pull Mako off Chuck’s training, since it obviously disturbed her. Which made her unpredictable and a threat to the operation’s success.

 

Mako was back at her usual position, dealing with patrons and their wishes; finding them the right pet, naming the right price and negotiating terms. Out of Chuck’s way and out of Tamsin’s hair.

 

Stacker had traveled to the PPDC chapter in Japan. A potential Kaiju agent was rumored to move between Hong Kong and Tokyo, and they needed to make contact.

 

It was all coming together, finally. 

  


_September 2020_

 

**Scene 20 - Yancy**

 

Chuck was his. Chuck was _his_. Tamsin had been right, it was a good idea to take a break and just spend time here with his boy, take it easy, get him used to walking upright again. Chuck was also bulking up quickly on his new routine of protein shakes and workouts, and it seemed to do Chuck a lot of good to be around the Wei boys, having some social interaction with guys near his age. His skin was glowing, his eyes were sparkling, and every time he looked at Yancy he had this little smile and a hot blush on his cheeks.

 

Things were different now, it was all different. Chuck was almost fully trained, no longer needed the constant pull and push of discipline and rewards, reacted to Yancy’s wishes and moods much more naturally, instinctively.

 

Yancy was taking it slow, luxuriating in it, letting Chuck come to him. They’d spend entire evenings on the sofa just making out, letting their hands and tongues explore each other. Chuck simply loved sitting naked in Yancy’s lap, moaning and arching his head into Yancy’s shoulder as Yancy jerked him off—just like in the dog room, but now, Chuck was very loud and wordy and definitely didn’t bark. And Chuck pretty much begged to have Yancy’s dick in his mouth, sucking him off and licking his balls like nothing else in the world gave him more pleasure, and maybe that’s exactly how he felt.

 

Despite not needing to be disciplined anymore, Chuck would occasionally act out just to get Yancy to spank him, which was amazing. Yancy loved this new dynamic, loved that Chuck wanted to be hurt, even begged him for it.

 

He stayed true to the promise he’d made himself, and didn’t go further than that, wanting Chuck to take the next step. So maybe it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him when he got out of the shower one night—and he’d showered alone without Chuck jumping in was already odd—and found Chuck on their bed, on his stomach, legs spread and ass up, looking back at him with dark lustful eyes, and finally said the words.

 

“I want you to fuck me, Yancy.”

 

Yancy casually walked up to the bed and ran his fingers over Chuck’s ass cheeks. “You finally want me to, baby?” he said hoarsely. His dick was getting hard so fast it hurt.

 

Chuck shot him a glare. “Wanted you to for ages,” he replied huffily, and teasingly rolled his hips up. “C’mon.”

 

Yancy grinned and trailed a finger down Chuck’s spine. Boy looked so lovely, splayed out like this. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

 

Chuck blushed something fierce. “‘Cuz I was waiting for you to do it,” he pouted. Of course he was. That’s what made this so much better.

 

“And I was waiting for you to beg for it,” Yancy laughed. Dug his fingers into Chuck’s buttocks and pulled him closer. Chuck gasped. Pulled the boy’s cheeks apart and then pressed his thumb against his hole and slid right in.

 

“What’s this?” Yancy said, twirling his thumb around, making all sorts of slick noises, and Chuck moaned. “Looks like you’re all wet down here already.”

 

“Made myself open for you,” Chuck gasped, hands digging into the sheets. “C’mon, fuck me…”

 

Yancy pulled out his thumb and then without warning shoved three fingers inside. Chuck yelped.

 

“Look at that,” Yancy rasped, reeling from Chuck’s eagerness, how easily his digits went in. “So open, like a good little boy.”

 

He knew very well what those words did to Chuck and was met with a loud frustrated groan from the boy and Chuck’s ass pressing down on his fingers. “Yancy, please, come on, I want your dick, not your fingers,” Chuck whimpered, and Yancy laughed out loud.

 

“Fuck, you’re so eager,” he gritted. “Can’t believe I’ve turned you into this…”

 

His eyes met Chuck’s and it was all there, everything, they both remembered, no ignoring or lying about it. Chuck knew their history as well as Yancy did. That he was brought here, against his will, was trained against his will, was hurt by Yancy, that Yancy had made him do things he didn’t want to do, ignored his pleas, hadn’t stopped when Chuck said no. Yancy couldn’t hide any of it or pretend it was better than it was. Chuck remembered the moment he broke, Yancy could see it, it was right there in the boy’s eyes. And Chuck didn’t necessarily forgive him for it. But Chuck was his. That bond had formed between them and Chuck couldn’t turn away from it any more than Yancy could.

 

“Yeah, you did,” Chuck groaned, eyes flaring up at Yancy. “Made me want it, and now you’re fucking around instead of doing something about it.” Rolled his ass against Yancy’s fingers and whined.

 

Yancy pulled out his fingers, dropped his bath towel on the floor and yanked Chuck further to the edge of the bed by his hips.

 

“Yeah? Let me hear you beg for it again, for old times’ sake,” Yancy growled.

 

Chuck grinned, reached back and pulled his cheeks apart. “Oh please, owner, please fuck me, please,” he said with considerable sarcasm.

 

Yancy rode his dick up against the crack of Chuck’s ass. “Think I taught you to beg better than that, pet,” he hissed.

 

“Owner, please… _please_ ,” Chuck said, and this time the sarcasm in his voice gave way to need, going up in pitch, taking on that familiar lilt of desperation Yancy knew all too well, the one that sent ice-hot shivers down his spine.

 

Yancy scraped his nails down Chuck’s back. “Not good enough,” he growled.

 

Chuck turned around, looked at Yancy, narrowed his eyes. Then climbed off the bed, and positioned himself on the floor on elbows and knees.

 

Yancy was pretty sure all the blood in his body was now surging into his cock. _Fuck._

 

“Please, sir,” Chuck whimpered, and his voice was as trembling and sweet as the first time Yancy had heard the boy beg.

 

Yancy positioned himself against Chuck’s hole and firmly gripped Chuck’s hips.

 

“Good boy.”

 

**Scene 21 - Chuck**

 

Yancy thrusted inside him, slow and steady, and it was everything he wanted and loved and hated all at once, tearing him open, huge and hard and scorching hot. Pushing at his insides, taking him, _owning_ him in a whole new way and Chuck wasn’t prepared for what it did to him. He thought he couldn’t lose himself any further than he already had, couldn’t possibly break even more. But with the sudden, stark reality of Yancy’s dick sinking into his body inch by inch, Chuck was falling apart all over again. His legs were shaking and his body was trying to decide whether to open up or push away, as if the months of harrowing training hadn’t happened at all, muscle memory of kneeling down and submitting over and over again utterly gone.

 

Yancy bottomed out, his hips pressing against Chuck’s ass, and his hands stayed firm on Chuck’s hips.

 

“You’re clenching up, pet,” Yancy groaned. “So tight.”

 

“I’m… I…” Chuck stuttered. “Please.” He didn’t know what he was even begging for. It’s the only word he could fall back on when he was lost on what else to say, when he wanted Yancy to guide him through.

 

“Please what?” Yancy’s fingers dug deeper into his skin.

 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Chuck whimpered, shivering, shaking his head.

 

Yancy’s grip loosened, and his fingers began to massage Chuck’s lower back in small circles. “Just relax, pet. Let me take care of you.”

 

Agonizingly slow, Yancy pulled out entirely, and Chuck gasped as the overwhelming, full feeling of having Yancy inside him faded away.

 

Yancy’s hands were on his shoulders and pushed him to the side, rolling him over on his back. Yancy lowered himself onto Chuck, cupped his face and kissed him. Slipped his tongue inside his mouth, lapping at Chuck in slow circles rather than the insistent, claiming kisses Chuck was used to.

 

“Yancy,” Chuck whimpered.

 

Yancy ran his hands down Chuck’s chest, his sides and hips and then lifted his legs up. Positioned his cock to Chuck’s opening once more, met Chuck’s eyes. And pushed in.

 

It was the same as before, Yancy filling him up, taking possession of him, but this time Chuck could wrap his arms around Yancy’s shoulders, pull him close, cling to him, whisper his name over and over.

 

Yancy sank fully into him again and ran his hands up and down Chuck’s body.

 

Now Yancy’s warmth was not only inside him but outside, all over, under his arms and on top of him and around his legs and Chuck clung to Yancy like he was drowning.

 

And then Yancy began to move. Rocking back and forth, not even sliding much, just stretching and rubbing against Chuck and where Chuck had felt being frighteningly torn apart before, this was new, this was amazing, and his legs fell open, hips arching up towards Yancy’s body.

 

“That’s it, baby,” Yancy whispered hoarsely, putting more strength into his movements, pushing into Chuck with longer, deeper thrusts. “Such a good boy, opening up for me like that.”

 

Chuck groaned, every slide of Yancy into him adding to this new, indescribable throb of pleasure he felt build up low in his gut, where Yancy was, out to his chest and limbs and his throat in short, needy whimpers.

 

“Yancy, Yancy,” he breathed, clinging as tightly as he could, spreading his legs further up and apart.

 

“Starting to feel it, aren’t you?” Yancy rasped, and shifted his hips a little on every thrust until Chuck cried out in pleasure.

 

“Oh, there! Yancy, there, fuck me right there,” Chuck mewled, mind shorting out over the white-hot burst of pure bliss that shot through him with Yancy’s dick hitting his prostate.

 

“Want it right there, baby?” Yancy grinned, driving himself into Chuck hard and deep at the same angle and Chuck convulsed against him.

 

Chuck wasn’t sure what he was saying anymore, a constant stream of cries and pleas leaving his mouth as Yancy fucked him so hard he couldn’t even think.

 

Then Yancy’s hand wrapped around his cock, began to pump him with brisk tight strokes and Chuck lost it, came all over Yancy’s hand and his abdomen as he cried out Yancy’s name.

 

Yancy continued to drive into him, rhythm faltering, and then growled, quivered, and Chuck felt the throb of Yancy’s dick against his insides. Yancy was coming inside him, filling him up, and that made Chuck lose it all over again, swatting away Yancy’s hand on his cock and taking over, squeezing out the last pulse of orgasm he had in him with a delicious thrill.

 

Yancy laughed, lowered himself down on Chuck, the full weight of his big body pressing down. His softening cock slipped out and Chuck clenched up, wanting to keep Yancy’s cum inside, like some sort of mark or trophy. Wanted to keep it in his body the way he always did with Yancy’s semen, swallowing it or licking it up.

 

Yancy pressed kisses to his shoulders, neck and jaw and to his mouth and teasingly ground his hips down into the sticky mess Chuck had made between them. Chuck whimpered.

 

“So how was that, pet?” Yancy said, sitting back, trailing a finger over his own dick. “Gave you what you wanted, what you asked for.”

 

Chuck sat up a little, still clenching. “Was so good… th-thank you, sir,” he answered. Bit his lip. “I’m gonna… I want a plug in, sir.”

 

Yancy raised his eyebrows in surprise and his hand slid between Chuck’s legs, finger brushing against his tightened hole.

 

“Fuck, that’s really hot,” Yancy breathed. Grinned, and got to his feet. “You sit tight, baby. I’ll plug you up.”

 

That evening, Chuck kept the plug in as long as he could, until he needed to take it out to go to the bathroom, and then cleaned himself thoroughly before climbing into bed with Yancy.

 

There was a whole new heat in his body now, and it wouldn’t cool down. He squirmed under the sheets and heard Yancy laugh.

 

“Can’t sleep, pet?” Yancy said, flicking the lights on.

 

Chuck shook his head and sat up, pulling away the covers. “Please… again?”

 

“What’s that?” Yancy said in a firmer tone, eyes narrowing.

 

Chuck leaned over to him and licked his lips. “Please fuck me again… owner.”

 

Yancy sat up and grinned, already tugging off his boxers. “On your hands and knees then, pet.”

 

When Yancy pushed in, Chuck welcomed the searing, full sensation, bucked back hard, braced himself against the metal bars of the bed, cried out for more, harder, cried out Yancy’s name.

 

Remembered, lying curled up against Yancy in the afterglow, plugged up and fucked out. Remembered Yancy had once promised to get him out.

 

Chuck hoped he never would. That Yancy could stay here, with him. Hoped they would never be let out of this room at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck has to entertain his first patron, but things turn really, really, REALLY bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **MAJOR ARCHIVE WARNINGS: RAPE/NON-CON AND GRAPHIC VIOLENCE**  
>   
> 
> This is the chapter that describes Chuck's rape. It's dark, it's fucked up, and if you don't want to read about it, please do skip this chapter and wait for the next. 
> 
> I am sorry to yet again not bring you much in the way of good stuff. It's going to happen _eventually_ , I swear. There will be a lot of Chaleigh at the end of the next chapter, and a lot of revenge plot coming up after, so please stick around!
> 
>  
> 
> TIMELINE:
> 
>   
> (open in new tab for larger version)

_October 2020_

 

**Scene 22 - Mako**

 

It had been several months since she had seen Chuck. Not since she was pulled off his case, in January. And seeing him, sitting across from her, on the floor, so different from the angry boy that she once took to his room, and had to repeatedly fight to keep inside. Back then, his anger had an edge to it, the purity of youth and inexperience. Now, though, Chuck’s eyes no longer held that fierce gaze borne from ignorance. He had suffered, and it showed. He was taller and broader as well, slowly coming into his own masculinity. His fingers were stroking over his neck, where Yancy’s collar had been, and he was clearly upset by its removal.

 

Mako clutched her clipboard and swallowed. Stacker-sensei had given her orders. She must follow them, even though…

 

“Chuck,” she said. “Last week you officially completed your PPDC training. We have found a suitable first patron for you.”

 

Chuck’s nails dug into his knees and his eyes flared up at Mako. “I don’t want another patron. I belong to Yancy,” he said.

 

Mako sighed. Chuck’s situation was so unusual. And no matter what her orders were, she was utterly convinced Tamsin and sensei had handled it wrong. Because the boy had been unwilling, clearly; but also because he had only worked with Yancy. It was going to make her job difficult. From now on, she would be in charge of finding patrons for Chuck, and making sure they got their money’s worth, whilst also taking care that Chuck remained as healthy and safe as possible. He was now a highly-trained, expensive pet, and they weren’t going to pair him up with just anyone. At the same time, patrons with the money to buy him typically had more expensive, extravagant tastes, and they would expect Chuck to do more than the average pet. All of his evaluations showed he could handle it, but his bond with Yancy was going to be a problem either way.

 

“You belong to the PPDC, Chuck,” she said. “You will not see Yancy again. He is not a patron, he was your trainer.”

 

Chuck trembled and set his jaw, eyes practically shooting daggers at her. “You can’t stop him from buying me.”

 

Mako let out a weak smile. “We can, and we have, Chuck. It is best you accept this.”

 

Yancy had offered a ridiculous sum of money for Chuck. And Stacker-sensei had not accepted it. They invested a lot of time and money into the boy, but more importantly, they had bigger plans for him. He was meant for the Kaiju. Yancy was never going to be able to buy him.

 

Tamsin had lied to her, many months ago. The doctor had never planned to let Chuck go. Mako had trusted her, and that trust had been grossly misplaced.

 

It was something Tamsin was going to regret, someday.

 

Chuck’s frown budged a little, a hint of despair in his eyes. “I can’t… without Yancy, I can’t,” he whispered.

 

Mako walked up to him and squatted down. “Chuck, have faith in us. I know it does not seem possible now. But the completion of your training means you are ready. Sasha and Aleksis would not have approved you otherwise. You will see, once you are with your patron. It will be easier than you think.”

 

Chuck glared at her. “Easy for you to say,” he grumbled.

 

Mako shot him an expression of sympathy. “This is not easy for me to say at all.” She sighed. It was time to trust the boy, in order to let him trust her. “I was trained as a pet too, Chuck.”

 

Chuck’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “You… you were?”

 

Mako nodded. “Stacker-sensei rescued me from Tokyo. I was one of the first. He trained me himself.”

 

Chuck seemed to be speechless, so Mako continued. “It was difficult for me to let go of sensei too, after training. But this is… our purpose, Chuck. And you are very good at what you do. You are one of the best.”

 

Chuck frowned, and looked away from Mako in thought.

 

“Do you… still want him?” Chuck eventually said.

 

Mako flashed Chuck another sad smile. “Yes, I do,” she said. “The bond between pet and trainer is strong. But it must not stand in your way.”

 

Chuck sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I guess… I can try,” he ventured.

 

Mako straightened up. “Good,” she said. She took a file from her clipboard and gave it to the boy. “This is the patron I have selected for you. His name is Adam Casey. He is—”

 

“The football player!?” Chuck exclaimed. “But he’s… married and everything.”

 

“Discretion is part and parcel of the PPDC’s services,” Mako said matter-of-factly.

 

“He’s also… young and handsome,” Chuck added, blushing.

 

Mako smiled. “I know. I would not set you up with someone unworthy of your attention, Chuck.”

 

Chuck blinked, and met Mako’s eyes. A flash of understanding passed between them, and for just a second, he almost smiled at her.

 

“Okay,” Chuck said. “What, uh… what do I have to do?”

 

At this, Mako’s shoulders hunched up a little. “Mr. Casey has booked you for a full night, at the Level 0 maximum price.”

 

Chuck’s brow furrowed, digging through his memory. “All vanilla stuff,” he concluded.

 

“Yes,” Mako said. “He isn’t allowed to restrain you or mark you in any way.” A little smile played across her lips. “Not even hickies.”

 

“Huh,” Chuck mumbled, and looked pensive. He glanced up at Mako. “What kind of pet are you?” he blurted out.

 

Mako was caught off-guard, and blushed. “That was a long time ago,” she said, her face slowly turning redder. “I was… trained as a cat.”

 

Chuck smiled. “You must’ve looked cute,” he said, and then blushed himself. “Er, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

 

Mako laughed. This was the first time she had any kind of friendly interaction with Chuck. She realized that aside from the triplets, he hadn’t really talked to other pets. And they were dogs, like him.

 

“Thank you,” Mako said. She relaxed a little. “It has been a while since I laughed.”

 

She squatted in front of Chuck again, hesitated, and then ran her hand through his hair. “You will do okay, Chuck,” she said.

 

Chuck nodded. “Yes, Miss Mori,” he said dutifully.

 

“We will head to the hotel room now,” Mako said. “You will meet Mr. Casey there in an hour.”

 

**Scene 23 - Chuck**

 

A whole month, they had given him and Yancy. He hadn’t realized then that it was a part of his training. Figured they were just giving them a break. And maybe Yancy wanted to believe the same thing. After the first time, they fucked countless more times, pretty much every day, in just about every position they could think of. Near the end of it, Chuck even needed to use bigger plugs. The smaller ones didn’t stay in anymore.

 

And after that month, Yancy had been ripped away from him. Yancy’s key returned, his collar taken off. Got some sort of official piece of paper, and a tattoo in white ink right above his ass with the PPDC logo. To remind everyone who stuck their dick inside who they were paying to be allowed in, or something.

 

It’s funny, before all this, he figured that when they broke him he was going to be a sorry mess of a person. But he felt the same general antagonism towards the world and the people in it he always had. If anything, he was more bitter than ever. Except now, he didn’t really care whose dick was in which of his orifices. Wanted it to be Yancy’s, though, so badly. Wasn’t sure he would be able to submit to anyone else as much as he had to Yancy, and didn’t really want to. But what he wanted didn’t matter. He’d learned that the hard way. So if some fancy john wanted to fuck him every which way from Sunday… whatever, right? It didn’t matter anymore. That’s what he kept telling himself.

 

He’d scrubbed and showered and yesterday he’d gotten a wax job, since apparently Mr. Quarterback Prom King Football Star Adam Casey liked his boys young and hairless. Chuck wondered if they bothered to tell the man Chuck’s real age. Probably not. Age seemed kind of bullshit to him now, anyway. As if turning eighteen suddenly made you ready to have sex, like if from one minute to the next you grew into a responsible adult.

 

So now he was relaxing on the bed, naked except for his tighty-whities, which did nothing to assuage his suspicion that his new patron liked ‘em young. But hey, Chuck was a trained pet. Good on Adam to call upon the PPDC to fulfill his questionable needs.

 

He tried to get himself worked up a little already. Figured Mr. Casey would like to be greeted by an excited young boy. It also relieved Chuck’s nerves a bit, but he tried to ignore that fact.

 

Chuck was absentmindedly running his fingers along the length of his dick, grinding into the sheets a little trying not to fantasize about Yancy, when the hotel room door clicked open and then shut again. Chuck rolled over on his back, sat up and assumed a somewhat less assertive posture, wrapping his arms around his knees and pulling them up.

 

And then, his first patron turned the corner.

 

He looked a lot taller on TV, Chuck thought. Something about his hair reminded Chuck of Yancy, and he wondered if that’s why Mako had picked Adam for him.

 

He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at the man, eyes big and everything.

 

Adam walked up to him, to the side of the bed, and ran a finger over Chuck’s cheek. He tried hard to blush, rather than bite the hand that was gonna feed him and tell the man to fuck off. Heard Yancy’s voice somewhere in the back of his head: _be a good boy, Chuck_. So he leaned into the touch, giving the broad-shouldered sports star his most doe-eyed gaze.

 

“Miss Mori wasn’t kidding when she said you were beautiful,” Adam said hoarsely. Took a deep breath. “And you look and smell so clean, boy…”

 

Chuck blushed, though he wasn’t sure whether that was because Mako of all people had called him beautiful—or because it was one of Yancy’s training words. Probably the latter. Tch.

 

Chuck bit his lip, took Adam’s hand and placed a kiss onto his palm. “Tell me how you want to make me dirty,” he said, flitting his eyes up at the man.

 

Mako had been right. This felt so natural. He’d expected to be afraid, or disgusted, or just plain lost. But it was like second nature to him, the words and gestures coming to him easy as walking and breathing.

 

The only difference was he felt absolutely nothing. With Yancy, he’d felt everything, all the time, and it had broken him. And now… it was an act. And he really didn’t care what Adam wanted him to do. He felt… numb. Perhaps even emptier than that.

 

And that was a good thing, right? Couldn’t afford to have feelings. Those only made things more difficult.

 

Ten minutes of kissing and petting later, Chuck was on his knees in front of Adam, taking the man’s cock out of his boxers—a grey pair with the Yukon Brawlers’ logo on it, jesus christ—and wrapped his lips around it. Smaller dick than Yancy’s, he thought, mildly amused. Felt different, too. Yancy’s was all thickness and heat that made his skin tingle, and Adam’s dick was just… skin, and kinda gross, but he swallowed it down anyway.

 

“Oh yeah, that’s it, good boy…” Adam grunted above him, and Chuck felt an icy sting go down his spine. That was Yancy’s phrase, too. Coming out of this guy’s mouth, it sounded like a perversion of his bond with Yancy. And that was ridiculous, considering, but…

 

He pushed the thought away and sucked harder.

 

Adam was bucking up into his mouth and Chuck felt his gag reflex trying to kick into gear, like his body was telling him this wasn’t Yancy’s and not wanting any other dick to go into his throat—but Chuck gave in, let go, the way he’d been taught, letting Adam use his mouth, even though he began to hate it more and more with each thrust.

 

He could tell by the pressure of Adam’s fingers on his skull the guy was getting close. Adam’s taste was already on his tongue, thick drops leaking, and he was tensing his fingers not to gag and twist his face at it. He was a well-trained pet, yeah, wasn’t gonna fuck this up…

 

Strangely enough, the first thing Chuck noticed was Adam sagging to the side, dick slipping out of his mouth, before he processed the muffled sound of the silenced gunshot, the blood spraying over his face from Adam’s throat where the bullet had gone in, the gurgle of Adam as he choked on it. Another shot, and the brains of his former patron were all over the sheets.

 

A gun pressed to the back of his head.

 

“Hey, Charlie-boy,” an all-too familiar voice grunted, right next to his ear. “Looks like ya got pretty good at sucking cock.”

 

Uncle Scott.

 

* * *

 

Chuck shivered. He’d seen corpses before. Had even seen people being shot. The company his father had kept in the last few years wasn’t exactly squeaky clean. But those people hadn’t been sitting in front of him, with their dick in his mouth.

 

His mind was reeling trying to make sense of the situation. Then, Yancy’s voice in his mind, somewhere from a distant memory. _Your uncle sent me._

 

“... Yancy sent you?” Chuck said, his voice shaking so hard the words were barely understandable.

 

Scott laughed. His gun was still pressed to the back of Chuck’s head.

 

“Nah, Charlie-boy,” he said. “I sent Yancy. Seems like he did a good job on you.”

 

Scott’s gun slid from the back of Chuck’s head to press into his cheek.

 

“S-so are you getting me out of here? Back to dad?” Chuck stammered.

 

Scott’s lips were on his ear. “Guess again,” he breathed. “Charlie, we’re gonna have some fun, you and me.” Slid his hands down Chuck’s back, down to his buttocks. “Gonna show me what Yancy taught ya.”

 

Nothing Yancy ever made him feel was as horrible as the pure terror that coursed through Chuck at Scott’s words.

 

“Uncle Scott,” he gasped. “No, no, you gotta let me go.”

 

“Hands behind your back, kid,” Scott said, pressing the barrel of the gun deeper into Chuck’s cheek.

 

Chuck obeyed. It’s what he was best at, all things considered. He tried to go to that space in his head he’d created in the past year, one of emptiness and goneness, tried to remember how he’d given in to Yancy, what he’d been thinking and feeling when he broke, because maybe he could get back to that, maybe he could handle it that way, it was the only way he knew how.

 

“Now, Charlie, kid, I’d love to hear you scream, but I think someone’s gonna notice,” Scott rasped. And his free hand dangled a torn off piece of duct tape in front of Chuck’s face.

 

“You don’t have to do this,” Chuck whispered. “I’m trained, I can do it, I can make it good for you, you don’t have to—”

 

“... don’t have to force you?” Scott laughed. “But Charlie-boy… that’s the best part.”

 

His hand smacked the duct tape over Chuck’s mouth.

 

Somewhere, Chuck figured, he should’ve been fighting, should’ve been kicking and screaming already. But he had been taught not to fight, not to scream. He’d been taught to bend over, to submit, to bear the pain, to obey. And even though every ounce of his being was screaming no, he obeyed.

 

He tried to think of it as training as Scott pushed him down onto the bed, which was still half-soaked in Adam’s blood, with bits of bone, brain and hair sticking to the sheets. Imagined it was just another patron, when Scott tied his ankles and wrists to the corners of the bed, so he was lying on his stomach, spread out and helpless.

 

As Scott penetrated him, dry and without preparation, and the screeching pain of being ripped open and torn apart inside cried through his body, all Chuck could think was why. Why was this different than with Adam? Why was this different than everything that had already been done to him? Why was this so horrifying, why did he feel like he would rather die than endure one more second of Scott’s body on top of his, grunting and sweating and grinding down, whispering his childhood nickname over and over? Why did he go through all that training if it didn’t help him now?

 

Scott finished inside, climbed off him and patted his hair, laughing. Chuck wondered if Scott was going to kill him. Through his tears he saw the gun lying on the nightstand and he hoped that Scott would use it now.

 

_If you’re a bad boy, I will punish you._

 

Was he being punished? Chuck had done his absolute best to be a good boy. Did he somehow let Yancy down? Or Mako? What had he done wrong? What if Yancy didn’t want him anymore?

 

Scott wasn’t picking up the gun, and wasn’t untying him.

 

_You can take a little more, can’t you? A strong boy like you._

 

His uncle was going to go for another round.

 

And Adam Casey had booked Chuck for the whole night.

 

When it dawned on him, it no longer mattered that he was tied down. His entire body bucked up against the restraints, flailing until he couldn’t anymore, and he felt like he was going to be sick, like he was already sick, Scott’s touch infecting his body, inside him, rotting and twisting in his gut. Scott’s breath was on his face, laughing, Scott’s body pushing down on him again.

 

His uncle was more talkative the second and third time around, in the moments Chuck could make sense of what he was saying. Talked about how he’d always thought Chuck was so pretty, ever since he was a little kid, but wanted to wait, wanted to wait until Chuck was old enough. How good Chuck felt inside. How it was all going to work out so perfectly when Hannibal Chau offered to provide him with all the illegal substances he could dream of in return for kidnapping Chuck, but then Herc’s deal with Pentecost got in his way. How he’d given Yancy the push to work for the PPDC, so Scott could keep track of Chuck. How Scott’s dick was so much better than Yancy’s, didn’t Chuck think so? How he’d tracked Chuck to this hotel. How easy it had been to chat up Mako, drug her and take her keycard once he’d dragged her off to his room. How Scott was going to take him out of here, they were going to go for a trip, just the two of them, uncle and nephew, they were going to have a great time.

 

The last coherent thought Chuck had was that he’d been mistaken, thinking Yancy had broke him before. That Scott had finally managed to do with Yancy couldn’t, what the PPDC couldn’t.

 

When Scott was done with him, Chuck was gone.

 

**Scene 24 - Mako**

 

The blur from her mind faded, the thudding darkness making way for focus, and her lifetime of training awakened, a cold calm settling into her body. There was tape over her mouth, her hands and feet bound to the chair. Mako experimentally tugged at the ropes at various angles whilst glancing around the room for anything sharp. She could not get to the knife in her boot yet, and that was her first order of business. Scott Hansen had clearly underestimated her. Trained as a cat, predicament bondage had been one of her talents, rewarded by sensei when she was able to squirm out of the bonds with her lithe, limber body. It took her less than a minute to work her foot out of her heeled ankle boot, use her toes to take out the small knife, cut the ties on her other foot, transfer the knife to her hands using a solid flat surface—the dresser—and cut herself free. She ripped the duct tape off her face without the slightest twitch.

 

Mako was deeply disappointed in herself. She had thought herself a better judge of character, but Scott Hansen’s true purpose had eluded her. He had spun a story about meeting her by coincidence, asking how Chuck was doing, when he’d be able to see his nephew again. By the time his tells were beginning to register in her mind, she had already drank too much of the tea, drowsiness setting in.

 

By now, Scott had probably taken Chuck into hiding or across state borders. But the PPDC’s second trade was information, and if Chuck could be found, he would be. It wasn’t of immediate concern. Her first priority was making sure their valued client was well. She didn’t know what Scott Hansen was capable of, and hoped he had not harmed Adam Casey in his successful rescue attempt.

 

As she approached the hotel room, her instincts told her something was off before she even smelled the blood and death seeping through the cracks of the door. Metallic, rusty, rotten. A smell not recognizable to anyone who had not spent a lot of time around blood and dead bodies, but Mako could never forget the way Onibaba’s house smelled, the night Stacker-sensei had rescued her. And it had been exactly like the scent coming out of the room right now.

 

Scott had taken the room’s key card from her, but it would not hinder her. The PPDC owned the entire fourth floor of the hotel, and she had the master key. Scott had missed it when he took her things, and she fished the key out of her jacket’s inner pocket. The situation could have been a lot worse, had the man been more careful. But a careful man did not turn a hotel room bloody.

 

Bracing herself and keeping her knife ready, Mako unlocked the door as quietly as possible. She waited for a few seconds, then peered around the corner, and saw a naked Scott Hansen, at the end of the bed, one knee up, another body underneath. There was a third body on the floor. Adam and Chuck.

 

Mako knew she had the element of surprise. If Adam and Chuck were still alive, every action she took must count towards their life, every movement precise and efficient.

 

She slipped the knife into her hand, holding it by the point, and narrowed her eyes. Aimed her throw. Scott, thankfully, was a large, visible, vulnerable target.

 

The knife hit him in the thigh. He screamed, clutched his leg, and Mako dashed inside, launched herself at Scott Hansen, swinging her leg up and whirling her body around his, using his center of gravity to stabilize herself and send him flying down to the floor. She pinned his arm behind his back in a steel grip and pulled the knife out of his leg.

 

It had barely taken more than ten seconds.

 

Mako wasn’t just trained as a pet. And today, she was more grateful than ever towards sensei for allowing her to practice martial arts.

 

However, Scott was physically taller and stronger than her, and despite her speed and reflexes, he was more than capable of throwing her off. She grabbed him by the hair, yanked his head up and smashed it against the floor, breaking his nose, before Scott could gather his wits about him; then clapped his ears hard to throw his sense of balance into disarray.

 

Momentarily secure in her position, she looked up and spotted the gun lying on the nightstand. Mako rolled forward off Scott, grabbed the gun, and spun around.

 

Only then Scott seemed to process what was happening, and he groaned. “You fucking bitch,” he mumbled, clutching his bleeding nose with one hand and grasping at his thigh with the other.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Mako saw Chuck’s body, covered in blood, bruises, burn marks and cuts. But still breathing. The same could not be said for Adam Casey lying on the other side, who had a significant hole in his head.

 

Mako spotted a pair of handcuffs on the floor next to the bed. Keeping the gun steady on Scott’s face, she crouched down, picked up the cuffs and tossed them towards him. “Put these on. At the heater.” She pointed towards the heater underneath the window.

 

“Gotta hand it to Stacker,” Scott grinned, dangling the cuffs in the air. “Seems his little yellow pussy has claws.”

 

“Put the cuffs on,” Mako said, lifting her chin up. “If I have to repeat myself, I will put a bullet in your balls. I do not make idle threats.”

 

Scott let out a bitter laugh, and cuffed himself to the pipes. “And now what, kitten? Gonna kill me for breaking your property?” He looked over at Chuck. “He’s mine, ya know. Needed to make that clear, needed to make sure he wouldn’t forget his uncle Scotty…”

 

Mako narrowed her eyes and walked up to Scott. She pressed the barrel of the gun to his head. “I will take care of Chuck now,” she said. “One day, you will see him again. It will be the day you die. I will make sure of that.”

 

She lifted the gun and knocked him unconscious with a precise blow to the bundle of nerves on his neck.

 

Mako took the ropes that Scott had used for Chuck to tie him up instead, and her knots were the kind he wasn’t going to wriggle out of any time soon. Confident Scott was secure, she finally turned her attention towards Chuck. He was still breathing, but barely. He needed medical attention. But more than that… he needed to get out of there.

 

She left the hotel room fifteen minutes later, carrying Chuck in her arms, clothed and mostly rinsed off. Scott was still tied up in there next to Adam’s body with the gun in his hands, empty of bullets and her own prints wiped off.

 

On the nightstand, there were two small subcutaneous microchips Mako had cut out of herself and Chuck, set to transmit an emergency signal to the PPDC in the morning. By then, she and Chuck would be long gone.

 

Lastly, she left a recorded message on her phone in the room for sensei to find.

 

* * *

 

“ _< Sensei. Mako here. Thank you for saving me, a long time ago. Thank you for everything you have taught me. I am sorry for what has happened today. It is my fault for not being careful enough. _

 

_But it is time for me to go._

 

_You must not kill Scott Hansen, sensei. He has treated Chuck like an animal. No, worse. But we treated Chuck like an animal too. It is our fault. We were the knife in Scott’s hands. We created the lamb he took to slaughter._

 

_Our debt to Chuck cannot be repaid, and what we have done cannot be forgiven. But I must try to make amends._

 

_One day, Chuck will come to you to reclaim his honor. Please, sensei. Let him. >”_

 

_* * *_

 

**Scene 25 - Chuck**

 

He was still alive.

 

He woke up in a car. His entire body hurt. The inside of his mind was nothing. He couldn’t move and couldn’t speak, but his eyes opened, just barely.

 

He saw Mako, at the wheel. When she noticed he was conscious, she gave him a small nod.

 

“I am taking you away from them,” she simply said. “Somewhere safe.”

 

He fell into darkness.

 

* * *

 

When he woke up again, they were in a motel. Mako’s hands were on his body, and he still couldn’t move. He watched as her nimble hands worked with needle and thread, weaving the cuts on his skin together. Rubbed ointment on his bruises and burns.

 

She got him to drink some water, before he lost consciousness.

 

* * *

 

The first time he gained proper consciousness, it didn’t seem like they were in a motel. It looked like a small cabin out in the middle of nowhere. Looking out the window, nothing but trees.

 

He could move, and stand up. His lower back and abdomen hurt terribly. His fingers brushed over the scars on his body, tracing the lumps and lines that hadn’t been there before.

 

He hobbled out of the room, towards something that smelled nice, smelled edible. And he was starving. He found Mako sitting at a small dinner table, shoving noodles into her mouth with chopsticks. When she spotted him, she put them down.

 

“You’re up.”

 

“Yes,” he replied. His voice was patchy and hoarse, but more from thirst than anything else.

 

“Feel like eating?” She tapped the pan that was sitting on the heating plate on the table.

 

“A little, maybe,” Chuck replied.

 

“Okay,” Mako said, and got up from her seat, fetched him a bowl, a spoon and chopsticks from the kitchen, and poured two large spoons of noodle soup into it.

 

Chuck hobbled over, sat down, and briefly glanced at the utensils before grabbing the spoon and bringing it to his mouth. His hand trembled so much he spilled most of the warm liquid before the spoon was even halfway.

 

Mako had picked her chopsticks back up and was back to eating her own serving.

 

Eating the soup went better at the third attempt. Like his arm was remembering how to hold things.  “How long has it been?” Chuck said after a while.

 

“Two days,” Mako answered.

 

He continued to eat a bit more, slurping up the hot soup and some of the vegetables.

 

“Where are we?” Chuck said, putting the spoon down.

 

“Oregon,” Mako replied, eyes flitting up at him and back to her noodles.

 

She’d changed her hair, Chuck noticed. The red locks were cut off, and her bangs now dyed a deep blue color.

 

“Where are we going?” He was starting to feel a little dizzy again.

 

“I am not sure yet.” She glanced up at him again. “I think you should stop eating.”

 

“Wh-” Chuck started, then doubled over and managed to turn his head away from the table just in time, and what little he had managed to eat splattered out onto the floor.

 

Mako got up and gave him a large empty bowl and a glass of water. He retched again, into the bowl this time. Mako cleaned up the mess on the floor, and then draped a blanket over him.

 

“You should go back to bed,” she said.

 

“Yeah,” Chuck said, shivering, letting her bring him back to the room he’d woken up in. Mako tucked him into bed, rinsed the bowl, put it on the floor near the bed and left a bottle of water behind.

 

“I’ll be right outside,” she said. “You can knock on the wall. I will hear it.”

 

Chuck burrowed further into the duvet. “Mako,” he said after a while, knowing she was still nearby. “You didn’t take me back to them.”

 

“I’m not going to,” she replied.

 

He didn’t really know what to say to that.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t ask Mako anything about what had happened in the hotel. There seemed no point to it. He felt miserable, and maybe he should take this chance to get away, to run. But he didn’t know where to go, what to do. And it simply… didn’t seem to matter. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. So he stayed.

 

And Mako, to her credit, didn’t ask him. Didn’t sit him down for a heart-to-heart talk. She tended to his wounds, cleaned up after him, made him dinner. All with a cool, business-like demeanor.

 

He was very sick, those first few days. Spent more time in the bathroom than outside it, his body trying to expel whatever got inside it, or... whatever was still inside it. The first time Mako said she needed him to take off his underwear to check his stitches, he didn’t understand. And when he understood, he had a panic attack for hours. But she guided him through it, repeating the same breathing exercises over and over. His back and stomach hurt, he wasn’t able to go to the bathroom without crying from the pain, and when blood came out he had another panic attack. Mako managed to somehow get him antibiotics by driving to the nearest town, which took her the better part of the day. That told him just how far away from civilization they were, and he was seriously starting to wonder why that kind of drastic isolation was necessary.

 

“Why are we hiding?” Chuck asked a few days later, gradually feeling better as the infection in his gut went away. Mako was just coming out of the shower. Her eyes met his, and now there was something else in them than the steeled, determined gaze she had before. The question he didn’t ask but was in there anyway was, why are _you_?

 

Mako sat down on her bed, took the towel off her head, and began to rub her hair dry. “The PPDC isn’t a company,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s a government operation. Black ops.” She glanced up at Chuck. “Stacker-sensei and Tamsin are agents.”

 

If Chuck was still capable of being shocked, he would have been. Instead, he gave Mako a blank stare. “Oh.”

 

“They are working to take down a criminal organization called the Kaiju. The only way to get to the Kaiju’s leaders is… their interest in sex slaves.”

 

Mako got up and undid the towel, evidently not caring about Chuck seeing her naked. It’s then that he spotted the tattoo on her lower back, the PPDC logo in white, just like him. She hadn’t lied about being trained as a pet.

 

“There is a very specific kind of slave the Kaiju want,” Mako continued as she put on clothes. “And not many people fit the neurological profile.”

 

She turned back to Chuck as she pulled a shirt down her chest. “I fit that profile. And so do you.”

 

Mako sat down on the bed again, her legs folded underneath and hands in her lap. “We are hiding because… they will stop at nothing. I see that now.” She glanced up at Chuck again, opened her mouth to say more, then stayed quiet.

 

Somehow, she seemed to understand that an apology from her would be meaningless to him, and so, didn’t make one.

 

Despite everything, he was beginning to appreciate Mako. Where before, everyone around him had sought to draw him out, see him open, vulnerable, torn by emotions—Mako left him alone as much as she could, didn’t pry, didn’t insist on him talking or doing anything except eat, sleep and stay clean. It was peaceful. It allowed him to shove all the things he didn’t want to think about in the deepest, furthest recesses of his mind and leave them there.

 

But he could only manage that awake. His nights were filled with nightmares of being pushed down, held down, being ripped and flayed wide open, and one night he dreamt of rabid dogs tearing the limbs from his body, screaming at the top of his lungs. Only for a few seconds, because then Mako was at his bed, trying to pull him out of it. And that was so triggering Chuck leapt at her, pushing her down onto the floor, eyes wild and hand closing around her throat.

 

Mako went completely limp, her eyes attempting to lock with his. “Please,” she simply said.

 

Chuck recalled the million times he’d said that word when Yancy hurt him and he promptly let go.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

 

“No, I am sorry,” Mako sighed. “Maybe I should not have tried to wake you up.”

 

Chuck buried his face in his hands, desperately scrambling to slam shut the door in his mind that had been kicked open by his subconscious, Pandora’s Box with all its horrors crawling out.

 

“Breathe,” Mako said. “Count to five in, eleven out.” She began to count out loud.

 

He followed her directions, and soon, he felt the whirling anxiety in his chest lessen. Forced the monsters back in their cage, lock and key, on every exhale.

 

Only then, still sitting on top of her, he noticed the flush on Mako’s face. And he hadn’t gone through all of his  training without being able to recognize it. A whole new array of questions bubbled up in his mind and the first one shot out before he could stop it.

 

“Are you reacting to me because you’ve been trained?”

 

Mako’s flush deepened, but her eyes met his, unafraid. “Yes and no. I am sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. I—”

 

“You can’t help it. I know.” Chuck sat back. “I didn’t realize it was like that for everyone.”

 

Mako sighed. “It isn’t. It is because of the neurological profile we share. We… they call it being Drift compatible.”

 

Chuck frowned, sure that he’d heard that phrase somewhere before, but he couldn’t place it. “What does being Drift compatible do? Does it make you react to people?”

 

“Yes,” Mako affirmed. “That’s why… you and Yancy... Tamsin did not realize it, but I knew, when I met him.” She glanced at Chuck. “Yancy is like us. It’s why you and him… kept your bond, even though she stopped giving you—” She clasped her hand over her mouth.

 

“... Stopped giving me… what?” Chuck said, his expression darkening.

 

Mako sat up, pulling herself away from Chuck. “Tamsin. At the start… she gave you a drug that would make you react to Yancy.”

 

Chuck recalled how he’d woken up with an erection in Tamsin’s practice, then in his room, for days and days. That now so familiar dark, sick feeling welled up in his throat again.

 

“I tried to convince them to stop. They would not. Tamsin lied to me. So I…” Mako gestured around the room. “I made a plan to get you out. But… I was too late,” she said.

 

Finally, she said it.

 

And Chuck didn’t want to hear it.

 

Didn’t want to hear how it had been too late, how if only she had done this, if only he had done that. Didn’t want to think about it.

 

So he reached for the one thing he knew could blank out his mind.

 

He found himself pressing Mako down onto the floor again, his hands closing around her wrists. Saw her reaction, then felt his own. It was strange, because he had never been interested in girls. But if what Mako was saying was right, there was some sort of compatibility between them, like something magnetic—he wouldn’t deny it. Because he had reacted to her from the start. Just that it always came out as anger and frustration at their inequality.

 

Because it had been the wrong way around, he realized, as his knee pressed up between her legs.

 

“Chuck. Stop.” Mako said, her voice firm and loud.

 

Chuck responded almost automatically to her authoritative tone, sat back, knelt down and met her eyes. Mako was glaring at him and she got up off the floor, fiercely, no longer the calm she had before, nor the humility. And he saw it then—she had been broken the same way as he had been, once. Not as recently, but it had happened to her, too.

 

He wrapped his arms around his knees. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

 

“I…” Mako hesitated. “I wish I…”

 

She sat in front of Chuck, and then, bowed deeply, her forehead pressing against the wooden floor tiles.

 

“<I am sorry!>” she exclaimed, her body shaking with the strength of her conviction. “<I can never expect you to forgive me, but I am sorry.>”

 

Chuck knew enough pop culture Japanese to know what _gomen nasai_ meant, and that this was not a normal way of saying sorry. The meaningfulness of Mako’s apology, in her own culture’s way, wasn’t lost on him.

 

He stood up, not sure how to react, just knowing that her effort, despite being earnest, didn’t make him feel better about anything. He honestly didn’t think that was possible anymore. By now, all that was left for him was to continue existing, until inevitably someone else would show up, ready to take their turn in using him. And maybe he could stop waiting, he thought. Mako was putting so much effort into keeping him alive, but what for?

 

Somewhere, trailing up his spine like a thread, his body whispered Yancy’s name. And he didn’t want to listen to it anymore. Didn’t want to be reminded of Yancy. Didn’t want to hear any more of Mako’s apologies. And whatever Mako said about the PPDC being after them, she might as well be lying to keep him around.

 

Five days later, there was a storm, and it gave Chuck the cover of noise he needed. In the middle of the night, he packed up, took Mako’s keys, whatever cash he could find, took her car, and drove away from the cabin. He didn’t know where he was going, but the road led down the mountain, and he was bound to end up in civilization eventually. He didn’t know what he was going to do, either. Maybe he was going to drive off a cliff and die. All he knew was he didn’t want to spend one more day in that cabin, around Mako, who reminded him of everything he wanted to forget. So he left.

 

**Scene 26 - Yancy**

 

He thought he’d get his shit together when the PPDC cut off his contact with Chuck. To their credit, they at least gave him a heads-up, so he and Chuck could say goodbye. Probably in the PPDC’s best interest, because not having closure would’ve screwed with Chuck’s head. Maybe make him even more averse to entertaining patrons. Of course, the award for screwing up Chuck was really all his.

 

It’d been a damn good last fuck, too. For once, hadn’t made it about their roles, hadn’t called the boy his pet. It was all Yancy and Chuck, and he’d taken everything from the boy he wanted, sucked the come out of his dick until Chuck cried, licked up all the sweat from his skin, like if he just tried hard enough he could devour Chuck entirely, make him a part of his own body. And he’d slammed into the boy’s hot, already so sweetly stretched little ass until he couldn’t anymore and then he’d kept going, grinding into Chuck with his softened cock until it stirred again. And Chuck, Chuck had clung to him as if he was trying to meld his body with Yancy’s, crying out Yancy’s name over and over until the sounds hadn’t made sense anymore. And they’d lost track of the hours, tangling and groping around each other even as their bodies were exhausted and spent. Nothing he’d ever experienced before could compare to it, every relationship and fuck he’d had with anyone else was a pale shadow of him and Chuck.

 

And it was screwed up, totally screwed up, and it ended when the morning came and Yancy wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or falling apart at the seams.

 

He tried to get some semblance of normalcy back into his life, but then shit hit the fan as soon as he got back to the office. In his absence, their R&D department had somehow completely fucked over the budget, courtesy of Dr. Lightcap, who had insisted it was absolutely necessary, that the calculations were incorrect, that they needed to run more advanced simulations. Yancy made a note to never leave Herman Gottlieb in charge of the company’s spending ever again.

 

The mess could quickly be fixed at next week’s Breach Expo though, with more investors lining up now that the first prototype JaegerBot had met with moderate success. Not so much in sales, but the internet crowd had picked up on the 4-foot-tall robot’s ability to chase moving objects, and had consequently unleashed it on their pets. The videos were a hit and drawing in thousands of viewers an hour and the company’s stock was at an all-time high.

 

So this was a fucking terrible time for Scott Hansen not to pick up his goddamn phone. Yancy hadn’t been able to get a hold of his poster boy for weeks, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t even talk to Herc on the phone without feeling like a horrible scumbag. Which he was, more or less, but still.

 

Instead of Scott, he received a call from Mako. And his heart skipped a few beats, because if Mako was talking to him then maybe it had to do with Chuck and if it had to do with Chuck then maybe he could see the boy again. Chuck’s departure from his life felt like having to cold-turkey the sweetest drug he’d ever had, being smacked with withdrawal symptoms and a constant craving he couldn’t still.

 

But Mako asked him to get pen and paper. Gave him coordinates. And then told him to come, and not contact the PPDC. No greetings, no explanations. When he looked up the location on GPS maps, it was somewhere up in the mountains in Oregon, in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t make any sense, and he got this sinking feeling in his stomach—like maybe something terrible had happened, something was wrong with Chuck.

 

He drove all night, right through morning into the afternoon, only stopping for gas and dubious sandwiches he scarfed down behind the wheel, and eventually found himself on a small, abandoned forest road, endlessly coiling up the mountain, until he saw Mako standing at the end of the road, waiting for him. Her hair dyed blue, instead of red.

 

She took him inside, gave him tea, and told him everything.

 

Two hours later they were driving back to civilization, his hands on the wheel, bloodied from punching the wall, a rage in his bones so raw he felt like tearing the whole world apart.

 

He didn’t care about Mako’s plea to allow Chuck his own revenge. The next time Yancy saw Scott Hansen, it would be his hands wringing the bastard’s throat, his fist ramming into Scott’s face until there was nothing left. Yancy knew many ways to make a man suffer, and Scott was going to learn about all of them.

 

But now—right now, they had to find Chuck. Before Pentecost did.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raleigh, Yancy and Chuck have to deal with what has happened. Chuck slowly gets a little better with Raleigh's unfailing support and actual therapy, whilst Yancy is sent on a path to discover what lies in the Becket family's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god this chapter took FOREVER. (In my defense I wrote two whole other fics in the mean time.) It's a slow, slow build. But! There is Chaleigh! I know what you're thinking, _finally_ , right? <3
> 
> TIMELINE:
> 
>   
> (open in new tab for larger version)

 

 

_December 2021_

 

**Scene 27 - Raleigh**

 

A panic attack was a terrible thing to see happen to someone, and Raleigh had done his best to help Chuck through it. Chuck had fallen asleep after Raleigh had rocked the boy back and forth in his arms for at least an hour. He'd caressed Chuck's hair and told him over and over it was going to be okay, he was safe now.

 

And now, it was him and Yancy, back in the lounge room. He didn’t know how much Yancy wasn’t telling him. But he got the picture. The person Chuck was now—this pet, this… sex slave, Yancy was in part responsible for it. And Raleigh didn’t know how to deal with that. Yancy was everything to him, his brother, his role model. Yancy had always taken care of him and gotten him out of trouble when he was a stupid teenager. He'd gotten Raleigh his first modeling job, was there for him when mother died, even though it must’ve been just as hard on him.

 

None of that matched the story Yancy had told him today. About how he’d worked with this ‘pet discipline club’, how he’d… coerced a minor. Fuck, when he thought about it too much and he didn’t want to, what Yancy did to Chuck was pretty much statutory rape. Christ.

 

And yet, Chuck… Chuck had readily crawled up to Yancy, submitted to him, the man who was for all intents and purposes his abuser.

 

How was any of this even remotely okay?

 

“I’m not looking for your forgiveness,” Yancy said after a while. “Or even your understanding.”

 

Raleigh ran a hand through his hair. “Dammit, Yance. Maybe you should.”

 

“I don’t… know how this is forgivable,” Yancy said, hanging his head.

 

Raleigh sighed. There’s something Yancy hadn’t told him about yet. Chuck had gotten more and more upset as Yancy had begun to recount what had happened. When he told Raleigh what had happened between Chuck and his uncle. And when Yancy reached the point of meeting Mako in Oregon, Chuck had finally collapsed, eyes wild, kept shaking. Yancy had reached out to the kid, but Raleigh had pushed him away. Instead, he'd carried Chuck to his bed and tried to calm the boy down.

 

“Why’d you bring him here?” Raleigh said, after Chuck had fallen into slumber. The question had been weighing on him since the first day Chuck arrived.

 

Yancy looked up at Raleigh for a few seconds, and then averted his gaze. “We eventually found Chuck, a month ago,” he said. “He was… we… we don’t know what happened to him, during that year, Rals. He won’t speak of it. We’re not even sure he remembers. The last time I saw him, he wasn’t like this. Even after his training, he always had this smart mouth on him, y’know?”

 

Yancy shivered, took a deep breath. “When we found him, it was just after the PPDC got him out of… wherever the fuck he was before. And Mako made it work. Forged a patron’s identity, forged the order for a pet, then switched that pet for Chuck, rerouted his shipment to here. And that’s how he ended up on your doorstep.”

 

“Why didn’t you fucking say anything? You just told me I could… _enjoy the gift_.” Raleigh was getting pissed off again. Like Yancy did all of this, planned it all, without ever telling him. Maybe that was the worst part. If Yancy had told him, he could’ve stopped him. Could’ve prevented so much of this. Why hadn’t his own brother trusted him?

 

“Knew you wouldn’t, kid,” Yancy sighed. “You’re not like me.”

 

“Fuck, Yance, how can you say that!?” Raleigh exclaimed. “I am more like you than anyone else on this planet!”

 

Yancy buried his face in his hands. “Not like… not when it comes to this,” he mumbled.

 

Raleigh slumped back in his seat. His head was beginning to hurt. And the thing was, he really wanted to be angry with Yancy, wanted to punch him and hate him for what he’d done to Chuck. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t hate his own damn brother, even when he wanted to.

 

Wasn’t really ready to forgive him either, though.

 

“I think you should leave, Yance,” Raleigh said after at least ten minutes of them staring at the walls in silence. “Think you should let me take care of Chuck for a while.”

 

Yancy sighed. And to Raleigh’s surprise, smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that,” Yancy said. “I… I shouldn’t even be in the same room with him. Even though…”

 

Raleigh saw it then, the ache in Yancy’s heart, the desire in his body, so obvious on his face he might as well have said it out loud. Yancy still wanted Chuck, wanted to do everything to the boy he’d done before, despite his guilt, despite knowing it had been wrong, was _still_ wrong given Chuck’s mental state.

 

And then Raleigh realized that he wasn’t just protecting Chuck from the PPDC. He was protecting Chuck from Yancy.

 

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Raleigh said softly. “Not just because you don’t trust anyone else with him. You... don’t trust anyone else to stop you.”

 

Yancy didn’t reply. Instead, his eyes met Raleigh’s. Rals recognized that tremor in Yancy’s jaw. Only saw that once before, at their mother’s grave, the day they buried her. And as Yancy slowly nodded, a hand covering his mouth, the tears welled up in his eyes and slid down his cheeks, thick and silent.

 

Raleigh didn’t say anything. Let Yancy feel his pain, because it was a good thing, as difficult as it was to see his brother suffer. If Yancy could still feel this way, he wasn’t lost.

 

“My plane for LA leaves tomorrow night,” Yancy said, after what seemed like forever. “I’ll stay out of your way until then.”

 

Raleigh sighed. It was hard seeing Yancy like this. Almost felt like… there was a different person there. And he wanted to take care of his brother as much as Chuck, even though it was all fucked up, even though Yancy had done terrible things. He couldn’t help it.

 

“At least… talk to Tendo,” Raleigh managed. The two of them used to be close, before Yancy left the house. Maybe the older, wiser Chief could help, somehow. Because Raleigh didn’t really know what else to do.

 

When Yancy left, he curled up next to Chuck, and felt the boy’s body relax against him.

 

Whatever else happened, whatever else was going on, Raleigh was convinced more than ever he would protect Chuck, wouldn’t take advantage of Chuck more than he already had, that first day the boy arrived in his cage.

 

As long as he was breathing, nobody was going to touch Chuck without his consent ever again.

  
  


**Scene 28 - Tendo**

 

The snow was half a yard thick across the fields, but Tendo made his way to the family cemetery. He needed some time—time to think. Time to talk to a long, lost friend.

 

He arrived at Dominique’s grave, a simple marble slab engraved with her name and the date of her birth and passing.

 

He cleaned the snow off the slab, and placed the flowers he’d brought on top of it. He undid the rosary he typically had wrapped around his wrist, kissed it, and touched it to her grave. Stood up and ducked into his long coat, the icy wind blowing across the graveyard.

 

“I’ve disappointed you, Domy,” he sighed. “I promised you I’d take care of your boys, raise them to be strong, good men.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ve broken that promise. Those two… the past is catching up with them faster than I can steer them away from it.”

 

He stood there for a long time, thinking. “Maybe it’s time,” he said, with a bitter laugh. “Domy, chèrie, if you’re listening… those boys are going need your strength for what’s coming. I hope they take after you more than after their father.”

 

That evening, Yancy visited him. Tendo had modest quarters in the east wing of the house. He didn’t care much for fancier accommodations, didn’t need much beside his bed and console.

 

Yancy knocked on the door, and Tendo greeted him with a playful smile and a curt nod. “Master Yancy,” he said.

 

Yancy frowned. “Geez, Tendo, don’t call me that,” he said, and the address seemed to bother him more than it usually had. Tendo had always teased him with it, but now, it really hit a nerve.

 

“Yancy,” Tendo corrected himself, and Yancy’s face lit up. “Sit down. Can I get you anything?”

 

Yancy rubbed his temple as he sat down in one of the large burgundy chairs in Tendo’s quarters. “Just… water, thanks.”

 

There was a long silence between them as Yancy sipped his drink.

 

“The boy,” Tendo eventually started.

 

Yancy sighed. “I brought him here. Sort of.”

 

Tendo nodded. There wasn’t much that escaped his attention, and Raleigh had informed him about the newest addition to their household. Hadn’t said much about the young man, though, and had seemed rather uncomfortable with the situation.

 

“Came in a cage, that kid,” Tendo said.

 

“Yeah,” Yancy replied. “It’s… a long story.”

 

“I don’t doubt that,” Tendo said.

 

There was another long silence. Seemed like Yancy needed it, Tendo thought.

 

Finally, after about half an hour, during which Tendo drank his tea and leafed through a digital newspaper, Yancy looked up at him.

 

“Tendo… I think there’s something wrong with me.” He frowned, and let out a shaky sigh. “Can’t tell Rals. Though I think he kinda suspects, now.”

 

Tendo put down his tea and newspaper, and nodded. “Your flight goes back tomorrow evening, doesn’t it?” he said.

 

“Yeah,” Yancy replied.

 

Tendo got up from his chair, went to the back of his room. Took a small key off his belt, and opened a dusty drawer he’d kept locked for a long, long time. Took out a card, with an address, and gave it to Yancy.

 

“What do I do with this?” Yancy said, frowning.

 

“Go there when you have the time,” Tendo said. “No return flights to anywhere, no meetings. Take a vacation.”

 

Yancy’s brow furrowed. “What’s this all about, Tendo?”

 

Tendo smiled a half-smile, both sad and knowing. “Ghosts,” he said. “Coming back to haunt us.”

 

He truly hoped Dominique was watching over her boys.

  


**Scene 29 - Raleigh**

 

The next morning, Chuck had awoken before Raleigh did, and he found the boy huddled in a corner, clutching his legs. When he noticed Raleigh was up, he crawled towards him on all fours. That’s when Raleigh noticed he had taken off all his clothes again.

 

Raleigh sighed. He’d made such progress before Yancy arrived, but it seemed he was back to square one.

 

“Chuck,” he said, and the boy looked up expectantly.

 

“I… uh, don’t you want to walk up straight anymore?”

 

Chuck’s expression became confused, and he didn’t say anything. Yancy’s retelling of his story must’ve hit him really hard, Raleigh realized, and he should’ve picked up on it sooner. Should’ve sent him away. Of course Chuck was upset, everything had been dragged up again, old wounds torn open.

 

Raleigh almost instinctively ran his hand into Chuck’s hair, and saw the boy relax to his touch again, as he had before.

 

“You can’t, for now, right?” Raleigh said.

 

Chuck’s lip trembled.

 

“Even talking… it’s too much,” Raleigh mumbled. And Chuck leaned in, nudging his head against Raleigh’s knees.

 

It was too much. Raleigh’s chest hurt from seeing the boy like this. And he sagged to his knees, wrapped his arms around Chuck.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” Raleigh said. “I’ll protect you. Nobody will ever… not again, not if you don’t want to,” he said. It was a lot more difficult that he’d figured, saying stuff like that.

 

Chuck clung to Raleigh, hands digging into the skin of Raleigh’s back.

 

“Master,” Chuck mumbled.

 

At least he was still saying something, Raleigh thought.

 

He sat back a little, peeled Chuck off him and lifted the boy’s chin with a finger to look at him. “Step one,” he said. “Call me Raleigh from now on.”

 

“Yes, Mas— … Raleigh,” Chuck whispered, quickly correcting himself.

 

Raleigh smiled. “That’s good. It’s okay.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Chuck… sorry for not being better at this.”

 

“Yes, Raleigh,” Chuck replied obediently.

 

Raleigh got up, shaking his head. This was going to take a while. He would have to be patient, kind, calm. But that was okay, he could do this. The shooting and promotions for his next campaign wouldn’t start until spring. Being back at the mansion, he’d planned to do some upkeep on the estate. Tendo frowned upon one of the young masters doing manual labor, but it always made Raleigh feel more useful, relaxed his mind. Once Chuck was doing better, he could get the boy to help out. Yeah, that seemed like a good plan. Raleigh was feeling a bit better already.

 

“I’m going to go get something to eat,” Raleigh said, letting go of Chuck and getting up off the floor.

 

Chuck nodded eagerly. He did look rather hungry. “Yes, Raleigh.”

 

“I’ll be right back,” Raleigh said, and left his room, hoping Chuck would be okay.

 

When Raleigh was on his way back from the kitchen he heard Chuck screaming in his room, and he dropped everything from his hands, food and drink clattering on the floor, and just ran.

 

Chuck was shaking, shouting, eyes squeezed shut. Raleigh wrapped himself around Chuck, carefully tried to pull his eyelids open, and Chuck’s eyes were wild again, glassy, seeing things in his mind instead of around him. The other staff had picked up on the noise but knew very well they weren’t allowed to enter Raleigh’s room ever since their new house guest had arrived, and eventually Tendo made his way into the room to assess the situation.

 

Raleigh was still holding Chuck, trying to keep the boy from hurting himself flailing, unable to stop the random shouting and crying. Raleigh looked terrified.

 

“Tendo, what do I do?? What do I do?”

 

Tendo placed a hand on Raleigh’s shoulder. “Stay with him like this. I have a friend I can call. I think she can treat Chuck.”

 

Raleigh nodded, his lip trembling out of fear for Chuck’s well-being. “Please, Tendo, hurry.”

 

Chuck only calmed down after a few hours because his body no longer had the energy to move, and as soon as he had rested a bit, it started all over again. He never quite woke up, and Raleigh stayed by his side the whole time. Tendo came by every now and then with food and water, and Raleigh fed Chuck as much as he could in between the boy’s episodes - porridge and soup and anything liquid he could get Chuck to swallow.

 

A day later, Tendo’s friend arrived, introducing herself as dr. Stephanie Lanphier, clinical psychiatrist, specializing in treatment of anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder. Raleigh felt so relieved at her arrival, he wondered why they hadn’t called upon her earlier. Here was a person with the actual expertise to treat Chuck, who could help him get better after all the horrible things that had happened to him. She gave Chuck a sedative, and he finally fell into a deep slumber.

 

Chuck slept for at least twelve hours after that, and still Raleigh stayed by his side, despite urging from Tendo and dr. Lanphier to get some rest. He simply didn’t want Chuck to wake up and feel alone, in the dark, without anyone there.

 

So when Chuck’s eyes opened, just a little, and he mumbled something Raleigh didn’t get—Raleigh almost cried with relief.

 

“You’re back,” he whispered, running his thumb in circles over Chuck’s hand. “Thank god.”

 

Chuck’s brow furrowed. He tried to speak, but his throat was so raw from the screaming the previous day that the only sound he made was akin to a croak. His lips mouthed ‘Raleigh’, and Raleigh smiled weakly, wiping a lock of sweaty hair from Chuck’s forehead. “You’re going to be okay, Chuck,” Raleigh said softly.

 

Chuck sighed, and then, overcome by exhaustion, his eyes rolled away and he was pulled back into a deep sleep.

 

Chuck didn’t wake up fully until almost another whole day later. By then Raleigh was exhausted, only having slept a few hours at Chuck’s side, and whenever Tendo had managed to drag him into his own bed.

 

But Chuck was awake, and that was all that counted.

 

The boy looked at Raleigh, frowned. And said, “... Raleigh.” No Master, no ‘sir’. Raleigh was delighted, even though he wasn’t sure what had exactly changed in Chuck’s head to cause this.

 

Raleigh smiled. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said.

 

“I slept for a long time?” Chuck ventured. He brought his hand up to his head, pressing at it.

 

“Your head hurts?” Raleigh inquired. “I can get you—”

 

Chuck’s hand closed around his wrist. “Don’t leave me alone,” the boy whispered.

 

Raleigh sat back down. “Okay, I won’t. I’m right here.”

 

He was curious if Chuck remembered anything about what had happened. But Raleigh figured, he’d leave that up to dr. Lanphier, before he barged through Chuck’s mind like some kind of elephant in a china store, possibly causing more damage than he could fix.

 

But Chuck offered his own answer. “I don’t remember much,” he said, glancing up at Raleigh.

 

“That’s okay,” Raleigh said, carefully. “Don’t push yourself.”

 

Chuck’s hands gripped the duvet tighter. “But I need to,” he whispered. “There’s something very important I forgot. Raleigh… I need to remember.”

 

Raleigh tentatively put his hands over Chuck’s to calm him. “Chuck, it’s okay,” he repeated. “We’ve found someone who can help. If there is something you need to remember… we’ll get to it somehow. Just… just don’t force it.”

 

Chuck sighed and avoided Raleigh’s gaze. “Okay,” he said after a while. His thumb moved a little against Raleigh’s hand.

 

“I remember how I got here, you know,” Chuck said softly. “Not much of it, but…” He looked up again, and Raleigh saw the worry in Chuck’s eyes, all kinds of painful feelings and thoughts that someone so young shouldn’t have.

 

“I was… trained, yeah? As a… pet,” Chuck continued, carefully choosing the last word, knowing it meant a lot more than what people called their cat or dog. “By Yancy… and you’re his brother. He sent me to you to keep me safe.”

 

Raleigh nodded. That was the gist of it, at least.

 

“But I don’t remember what’s in between.” Chuck tugged his hands away from Raleigh’s and ran them through his hair. “I know it’s something bad.”

 

Raleigh wasn’t sure if it was the right therapeutic response, but he wrapped his arms around Chuck and pulled him in. “You don’t have to remember right now,” Raleigh spoke softly. “Just… just be here.”

 

Chuck closed his eyes, and nudged a little closer to Raleigh. “Yeah… okay.”

 

  


_January 2022 - present_

  


**Scene 30 - Chuck**

 

Chuck gingerly sits back on the comfortable chair and glances at dr. Lanphier. From what he remembers of Tamsin, he is kinda wary of doctors who say they are going to help him. But Raleigh explained she wasn’t _that_ kind of doctor. And despite Raleigh’s assurances, Chuck knows there is something really important he forgot, and no matter how bad it was going to make him feel, he has to remember.

 

The doctor inches her chair forward, sitting closer to Chuck. “We’ve talked about it last time, but I’ll explain the treatment again, all right, Chuck?”

 

Chuck nods, folding his hands in his lap. “Yeah.”

 

“I’m going to apply a therapy called eye movement desensitization and reprocessing. It’s designed to help you recall traumatic memories and then store them in your memory again with reduced intensity,” the doctor elaborates. “I explained the process to  you last time, do you still understand what it’s about?”

 

Chuck nods. “Yeah. You said it won’t be easy, but eventually it’ll get better, right?”

 

“That’s right,” the doctor answers. “I’m going to ask you how intense, painful or memory is before we start, and then again after. If it goes well, the memory should become less intense.”

 

Chuck twiddles his fingers in his lap. “But… does this really help? I mean… what happened to me… it’s not gonna go away.”

 

The doctor leans forward a bit more. “This therapy is about coping in the present, feeling okay right now, Chuck. So you can move on, eventually.”

 

“All right, Chuck… are you ready?” She sits even closer to him, and takes off her glasses.

 

Chuck nods. “Yes.”

 

“I want you to close your eyes and think of the memory that gives you the most anxiety right now,” the doctor explains. “You don’t have to tell me which. Just tell me once you have it.”

 

Chuck closes his eyes.

 

 _The cold hard steel of the gun pressing against his head. Scott’s rasping voice. Scott’s hand sliding down his back_ —

 

“I… I’ve got it,” Chuck says, his voice shaking.

 

“Okay,” dr. Lanphier says. “On a scale of one to ten, how intense is this memory for you?”

 

Chuck considers the question. “Ten,” he answers, squeezing his eyes further shut.

 

“Open your eyes, and look at the tip of my finger,” the doctor says.

 

Chuck focuses his eyes. The doctor is holding her index finger up in front of his face, between his eyes.

 

“I want you to follow my finger with your eyes, not your head, and go deeper into the memory. Follow its threads. You don’t have to stay with it. Let it take you along.”

 

Chuck nods.

 

As he begins to follow the doctor’s index finger moving from left to right in front of him, he touches upon the memory again.

 

_Scott tying him up, Scott’s hands on his body, Scott… pressing inside._

 

 _The floor is above him. The ceiling below. Rope. Laughter. Hands everywhere. Strange patterns painted in_ —

 

 _Their skin is blue and their eyes are black and their teeth are made of light_ —

 

_No, no, go away, go back up, go back up, find…_

 

_Mako’s body shifting under him. Hard black pupils saying ‘Stop.’_

 

“What are you remembering now, Chuck?” the doctor asks.

 

“Mako… I pushed her down,” Chuck says. “She ordered me to stop, so I did.”

 

“Okay. Continue following the thread of memory as you follow the movement of my finger.”

 

_An endless winding path down an unknown mountain. Rain and wind. City lights becoming brighter._

 

_Cold and hungry. A man beckons, offers him money. A familiar act in a strange place. Sweat and stink and sperm. Only thing he’s good for…_

 

“What are you remembering now, Chuck?”

 

Chuck bites his lip. The memory is new, something he’d previously forgotten. Yet now that he knows it, it feels old to him. Something that happened a long time ago.

 

“I’m in Seattle,” Chuck explains. “I’m… having sex with strangers, for money, to get food and shelter.”

 

The doctor nods. “Follow the thread further as you follow the movement of my finger.”

 

_Shouldn’t have gone back to this john’s hotel room—bad idea, bad idea—pushed down, jaw forced open, shoving inside, choking, slapping his face._

 

 _Stop, please stop, just_ — _stop_ —

 

_Kicked down, bag over his head, zip-tie around his wrists._

 

_They’re speaking a language he doesn’t understand… sounds vaguely familiar. Japanese?_

 

“What are you remembering now, Chuck?” the doctor says.

 

His eyes focus on her moving finger again. He’d been… someplace else, for a few seconds. The memory sinks away from his consciousness as fast as it had risen up.

 

“I’m not sure,” Chuck replies. “They’re… speaking Japanese?”

 

“Okay, I want you to go back to the memory from the start,” the doctor said. “Follow the movement of my finger.”

 

_The gun pushing into his cheek. Scott’s sickening grin._

 

_Sheets stained red from his blood—no, not his… Adam’s._

 

 _When did Scott untie him? He’s lost count of how often_ —

 

_His stomach hurts._

 

Chuck grabs his stomach, as if he’s feeling the pain again, the cramps and the sharp stabbing sensations, spreading out to his lower back. He jams his teeth into his lip to suppress a whine.

 

“You can stop following the movement of my finger,” the doctor instructs. “How intense is the memory for you, on a scale of one to ten?”

 

Chuck considers the question again, and grits his teeth. The result is disappointing. “Eleven,” he mumbles.

 

The doctor sighs. “Okay. We’ll continue next time. Shall I call Raleigh?”

 

Chuck nods. “Please.”

 

Raleigh is the one thing that doesn’t scare him, now. Raleigh is like a thick blanket he can wrap around himself, big and warm and silent, Raleigh’s presence turning the screaming in his mind to dull, faraway noises. If he could, Chuck would bury himself in Raleigh’s broad chest and never let go.

 

So when Raleigh comes to pick him up from dr. Lanphier’s temporary office in the mansion and takes him back to Raleigh’s room—their room, now, kind of—barely a second after the door closes, Chuck finds himself rubbing his face deep into the fabric of Raleigh’s sweater.

 

Raleigh’s large, strong arms wrap around him, and Chuck breathes in deep, the scent of Raleigh—coffee and spice and books and just _him_ _—_ so comforting he wishes he could distill it in a bottle and keep around him.

 

Yancy never smelled like that, an errant thought escapes his mind, before he pushes it down again. His fingers dig into Raleigh’s back.

 

“How’d it go?” Raleigh asks, his voice a soft rumble under Chuck’s ear, Raleigh’s heartbeat a regular drum in his chest.

 

“Bad,” Chuck mumbles. Tries to get his face even deeper into the lumpy fabric.

 

“It’s okay,” Raleigh says. He’s said that so often Chuck would almost believe him. Almost. Right now, he wants to believe it, even when the therapy session had him tugging at threads he doesn’t want to unravel, even when he has to, needs to.

 

“Raleigh,” Chuck says. “Can you…?”

 

He’s kind of too embarrassed to ask, but Raleigh knows. Runs a hand into Chuck’s hair, a gentle caress that makes something settle in Chuck’s stomach.

 

So Raleigh does that thing he always does when Chuck feels upset, which is almost every night anyway. Dresses him in sleep clothes, tucks him into bed, and starts reading him stories.

 

It’s silly and childlike and Chuck doesn’t care because it’s so nice. Raleigh tells him of heroes who defeat monsters, people who work together, overcoming their differences for a greater good. Raleigh tells him of hope and love and compassion. Things Chuck had forgotten how to feel. Turns out Raleigh’s favorite stories are his, too. Stories that make you feel stronger, like you could do all the things the characters do. Be just as courageous, just as inspired, just as strong.

 

Chuck isn’t sure how dr. Lanphier’s therapy can be effective, when this makes him feel way better than all the digging up of memories and staring at her hand.

 

Raleigh is halfway through telling how the paladin and the monk come to the rescue of their two warrior friends, besieged by a dragon, when Chuck starts crying.

 

Raleigh doesn’t even say anything, just puts the book down and wraps his arms around Chuck.

 

It’s another one of those things he’s so thankful for. Raleigh never pries or asks. He accepts Chuck can suddenly feel scared or sad and burst into tears.

 

“Sssshh, sshhh,” Raleigh whispers, softly rubbing Chuck’s back. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

 

Another sob racks through Chuck’s body, and he shakes in Raleigh’s arms. “It’s not, it’s not okay,” he cries.

 

Raleigh doesn’t argue, and continues to hold him, strokes his hair, strokes his back.

 

When Chuck’s body gets worn out again, can’t push out any more tears, and his breathing slows, Raleigh’s sweater is a mess of tears and snot.

 

“I remembered something today,” Chuck finally confesses. “In therapy.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to,” Raleigh says, his thumbs running circles on Chuck’s arms.

 

Chuck looks up. “I want to,” he says resolutely. Coughs.

 

“When I… I got to Seattle, I… started hooking,” he says. A flush rises to his cheeks, like he’s embarrassed about this, despite everything Raleigh already knows about him, accepts about him. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Makes sense,” Raleigh says after a while.

 

“You think so?” Chuck says, ducking his head.

 

“That’s what they taught you to do, so…” Raleigh’s brow furrows, forming long curved lines up his forehead. “It’s not something you should feel ashamed of. I think. You did what you could to survive.” His arms wrap tighter around Chuck. “And sex work isn’t a bad thing, y’know? It’s bad that they made you do it. But it doesn’t… doesn’t make you a bad person. Doesn’t make you worth less.”

 

Chuck feels the tears sting in his eyes again, and buries his face in Raleigh’s sweater. “Thanks,” he says, voice muffled.

 

Raleigh places a kiss on his hair. “It’s gonna be okay,” he says for the thousandth time.

 

Maybe one day Chuck might actually believe him.

  
  


**Scene 31 - Yancy**

  


It’s taken him a few weeks to scrounge up the nerve to go after the card Tendo gave him. Something about it makes his stomach twist, makes him want to tear up the card, burn it and flush the ashes down the toilet.

 

But he doesn’t.

 

He’s taken a week off, like Tendo instructed, and goes up to Sitka, a nigh impossible-to-reach town southwest of Alaska’s glaciers bordering on the Canadian Yukon. The landscape is impressive, stunning, frightening in its immense natural beauty and despite being half-Alaskan, born and bred at least, Yancy marvels at how any human being climbed and sailed their way here and decided to eke out a living.

 

But he’s not here for the living, it seems. The address on the card is that of the cemetery’s groundskeeper, who takes one look at Yancy and shakes his head with a sad grimace.

 

Yancy’s feet feel heavy in his snow boots, like they don’t want to move to where he’s going. But he forces them to move anyway. He follows the groundskeeper into the lot until they’re at an unmarked grave way at the back. Which provides exactly zero answers and does nothing to settle the upcoming nausea in his stomach.

 

The groundskeeper who has said a great all of two words to him, hands Yancy a letter, and then takes off.

 

Yancy looks at the address on the letter.

  


_To Yancy. From Richard._

 

Yancy’s jaw clenches and it takes every ounce of willpower he has not to rip the letter apart where he’s standing. A letter from his father? If he can even call him that. He ran away on him and Raleigh shortly after their mother died, leaving the boys to care for their even younger sister. If it hadn’t been for Tendo, they’d be completely lost.

 

But he trusts Tendo. More than he trusts himself at this point, so he opens the letter. And as his eyes run over every line, his grip on the piece of paper tightens.

 

_Yancy. If you’re reading this, means that you’re in Sitka. I told Tendo to send you there when the time was right. Maybe there’s no such thing as a right time, but you’re probably old enough now._

 

_I want you to know that I didn’t up and abandon my sons for no good reason. Knew Tendo would care for you. When your mother died… I knew I had to go make things right for you boys. Had to go bury the past._

 

_The past is buried before you, son._

 

_His name was Charles Becket. He was once my brother, before he decided to hurt my family. Before he hurt those I love._

 

_Your mother made me swear on her life not to cause more suffering, and as her life passed, so did my promise to her._

 

_I took his life, or what was left of it. And then knew your mother was a great deal wiser than me. Taking a life, no matter how just you think it is, it changes you. Puts a shadow on your soul. Knew I couldn’t face you boys, knew you deserved a chance to grow up without that shadow around you. I hope you did, Yancy. I hope I did the right thing._

 

_But you deserve to know the truth, why I wasn’t there for you boys._

 

_And you deserve to know, Yancy, that you’re good. You’re brave. You protected your brother. You always have. You are a good kid. No matter what happens, you have to believe that._

 

_I wish I could have protected you. But I failed you as a father._

 

_The grave before you is my attempt at making up for my mistakes, but it was a poor attempt. I’m sorry. Sorry for the darkness I brought into your life. You and Raleigh are the only good I ever brought to this world._

 

_I’m sorry, Yancy._

  


The letter falls to the ground, the paper getting wet in the snow, as Yancy falls to his knees.

 

“Fuck you,” he tries to hiss, but it comes out as a sob, and he’s shaking.

 

This whole time, he hadn’t known, he’d forgotten, a shadow in his mind he didn’t cast light on because he didn’t know it was there. And now it was there, and the truth of it shattered him to his core.

 

Why did the old man have to write this fucking letter? Why did Tendo figure it was a great idea to send him here? Why?

 

Yancy clutches his chest, the hurt that’s blooming up in it physically painful, tearing through him like a serrated blade, ripping open scars he didn’t even know were there.

 

With sudden, frightening clarity, he recalls a statistic he’d come across years earlier. One of those random facts you read and get stuck in your head for some reason.

 

_The majority of abusers are victims of abuse themselves._

 

Yancy wraps his arms around himself, bites his lip not to cry, doesn’t want to, doesn’t think he deserves to. It excuses nothing, he tells himself. It doesn’t undo what he did to Chuck. All it is, is a terrible answer to a terrible question.

 

He doesn’t know for how long he sits there in the snow, until he can no longer feel his legs or fingers or face, and the groundskeeper manages to drag him back inside a small stone cabin at the entrance, sits him in front of a fire and feeds him soup.

 

“‘s a terrible thing,” the groundskeeper eventually offers, which is the longest phrase he’s spoken so far.

 

“How are you involved?” Yancy says after a while, when he’s fairly confident his voice might work.

 

“Helped,” the groundskeeper mumbles. “I bury folks.”

 

Yancy shakes his head. Maybe he doesn’t really want to know.

 

The groundskeeper sticks out his hand. “Name’s Jessop,” he says. “Duc Jessop.”

 

Yancy takes his hand. Figures the man already knows who Yancy is, so he doesn’t say anything.

 

They sit there for a while, eating their soup, which oddly soothes some of the turmoil in Yancy’s stomach.

 

“You should come stay with me and m’wife,” Duc says. Yancy almost drops his bowl, again surprised by the longer collection of words coming from the stocky, bearded old man, and the offer those words hold.

 

“I have a place to stay,” Yancy replies. “The hotel—”

 

“Hotel don’t know much,” Duc gruffly interrupts Yancy. He gets up from the small table and shuts off the air vent to still the fire in the cabin. “Kaori does.”

 

Just what is this old man implying? Richard’s letter brought up more questions than Yancy knows how to deal with. How would this stranger and his wife have any answers?

 

He only vaguely recalls what his uncle did. The little that did surge up from his memory after he read his father’s letter only comes in words, fragments—his uncle threatening to do the same to Raleigh and Jazmine, if Yancy doesn’t obey. His uncle threatening to tell dad.

 

He’s glad he doesn’t remember much else, and doesn’t want to.

 

Yancy stares into the bowl, still not sure about taking Duc up on his offer.

 

“Come out here fer answers, didn’t ya?” Duc grumbles. He clamps his giant hand down on Yancy’s shoulder. “If you don’t want ‘em, least you can do is pay back yer debt.”

 

Yancy looks up at Duc. The giant man isn’t making much sense. “How much?” It’s not like he can’t cover whatever costs Duc has endured, somehow.

 

“This debt ain’t in money, son,” Duc says, and there’s a hint of satisfaction to his gruff voice. “Carryin’ secrets around ‘s hard work.”

 

Yancy gets up off the wooden chair, pulls his coat up, the fur collar thick and warm around his neck. “So how do I pay you back?”

 

Duc grins, which is the first time Yancy’s seen the man display any sort of facial expression that’s not morose, and is surprised by the warmth in Duc’s smile. “Hard work,” he replies. “Better get moving, too. Looks like a storm’s coming.”

 

Yancy sighs. Duc Jessop is determined for a man who initially didn’t seem to care. And he follows him, through the snow, back to the town centre. Thick flakes of snow drift through the air, increasing in number as the wind picks up, and has Yancy burrow further into his coat.

 

He wonders if Tendo knows what’s going on. What kind of path he set Yancy on.

 

But something about the stillness and snow reminds him of a home he lost. Of when they were all together, huddled around the mansion’s fireplace. Before his life became one of steel and glass, skyscrapers and computers. Before he turned his hand towards a young boy, breaking him because he is broken himself.

 

Yancy breathes in deep, and the cold makes his nose ache and his ears tingle. It feels good.

  
  
  


**Scene 32 - Raleigh**

  


Chuck is still very skittish the first few weeks, but his sessions with dr. Lanphier seem to be paying off. Even though afterward he always comes to hug Raleigh and kind of wraps himself into Raleigh’s sweater, and has a crying jag somewhere later that evening.

 

When Raleigh talks to the doctor about it, she tells him it will get worse before it gets better. The therapy she’s using has Chuck recall his worst memories, so she can somehow put them back in his mind less terrible. It really doesn’t make much sense to Raleigh. Why can’t Chuck just leave it all behind and move on? But he’s not the one with the Ph. D., so what does he know, right?

 

Maybe he’s starting to feel a little bitter towards her for making Chuck cry so much.

 

It _is_ working though, slowly. Chuck seems lighter in his step, eats better. Wanders around the mansion now that Raleigh lets him. It’s not like after all the screaming he can really pretend he’s hiding Chuck. And the extra freedom improves Chuck’s mood, too. As long as he doesn’t wander into the west wing, it’s fine.

 

He hasn’t heard from Yancy much. Just one letter, hand-written, which is about the weirdest thing for Yancy to do in this day and age. Raleigh could’ve told him an e-mail would’ve worked just as fine. He’s in Sitka, which is some godforsaken town at the edge of the Alaskan west coast south of the glaciers, and Raleigh has no freaking idea what he’s doing there, just that Tendo somehow is responsible for Yancy’s temporary relocation. But in his letter, Yancy assures Raleigh he’s doing okay, doing better. Helping an old family friend, whatever that means.

 

The longer Yancy stays away from Chuck, Raleigh figures, the better. The two of ‘em will have to talk some day, but not when Chuck is still in this process of recovering. Which could take… well, how long do these things take? Months? Years? Raleigh doesn’t know. But he’s going to be there for Chuck, the whole way.

 

It’s somewhere early in March, late on a cool, cloudless day, when Chuck is leaning on the elaborate stone fence of the second floor balcony at the back of the mansion, overlooking the gardens in the sunset. He’s wearing one of Raleigh’s shirts, the kind that is too big for him but hugs his body in a really nice way. And Chuck’s been eating better, feeling better, and he looks better; more filled out, chubbier. Raleigh thinks maybe he’s even grown a bit in height. The twilight is golden on Chuck’s skin, he’s enjoying the last bit of warmth before the night, his cheeks slightly dimpled. And Raleigh’s got an eye for composition, light, beauty. Courtesy of his profession. And the whole picture is… beautiful. Chuck looks back, laughs, gives Raleigh a questioning look. Asks what’s with the weird face.

 

Raleigh’s pretty sure that’s the exact moment he realizes he’s in love.

 

It doesn't hit him like lightning or anything. And not like the desire he felt before when Chuck had arrived in his cage. The realization that he loves Chuck blooms up in his chest and washes over him like a big, warm fire kindled in a hearth. And he knows there is nothing he wouldn’t do to help Chuck, to make him happy, to bring more of those laughs out of him. It’s kind of overwhelming, so he just stands there, dazed, his skin getting all flushed.

 

Chuck walks up to him and asks Raleigh why he’s blushing.

 

And Raleigh just blushes more. Stammers something, like, the sunset is nice, whatever.

 

Chuck shrugs and then, when a cool breeze comes along, walks into Raleigh’s arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And Raleigh tries to act all cool and normal and wraps his arms around Chuck because they hug all the time and every inch of his skin seems to be made out of warmth and light and he is so, so very much in love. Pulls Chuck in a little closer.

 

What the hell is he going to do about it?

 

He can’t sleep well that night, courtesy of Chuck being right there next to him. After dr. Lanphier’s advice they tried having Chuck sleep separately, on his own, but it gave him terrible nightmares again. So Chuck went back to sleeping in Raleigh’s bed. And it’s been… nice. No awkwardness, no Chuck coming on to him, no him pushing Chuck into something Chuck’s not ready for.

 

But now, now all Raleigh can think about is how he’d like to hold Chuck tight, and if he could, take all of Chuck’s scars and pain into himself so Chuck wouldn’t suffer anymore. Would make it all go away. He knows that’s not very practical, it’s not really what Chuck needs—but Raleigh wants to anyway. He’s going over it in his head, tossing and turning, until he realizes he might be disturbing Chuck’s sleep and then he stops moving, becomes ridiculously aware of his own breathing and finds himself gasping.

 

He’d forgotten how stupid being in love makes you feel.

  


**Scene 33 - Chuck**

  


Something’s changed. Chuck can tell by the way Raleigh looked at him earlier tonight, by the extra tension in his arms when they hugged, by the way he’s fussing around now. Chuck’s not sure what it is about, but he finds himself sitting up in bed. Not sure what he’s trying to do. Maybe just ask Raleigh what’s wrong, or tell him to go drink some tea if he can’t sleep.

 

Chuck’s been feeling pretty good lately. He doesn’t have to cry as much anymore, and the therapy dr. Lanphier is applying is starting to pay off. Like the edges are being taken off his memories, slowly but surely. He hasn’t remembered much more from the past year, but he’s starting to be okay with that. Every day things seem more important now. Like… like the amazing food in this mansion. And the endless rooms and hallways that he can’t stop exploring. The gardens, now that it’s slowly getting warmer. And… Raleigh. Definitely Raleigh.

 

He started out hugging Raleigh for comfort, but if he’s completely honest with himself—which is hard enough to do anyway—he now also kind of hugs Raleigh because he likes the feel of Raleigh’s body against his.

 

But it’s different from what he knows. Different from Yancy. There’s no… pulling or pushing. Like he doesn’t feel like he’s being moved or manipulated to do something. As much as he hates to admit it, Yancy was always… trying to get him to do one thing or the other. Even if he liked it. Even if he still misses Yancy, and misses the emptiness that came with going on his knees and surrendering control.

 

Raleigh isn’t emptiness. When he’s close to Raleigh, it feels like he’s filling up, like his chest is going to burst, until he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

 

And now Raleigh is keeping him awake with all his shuffling and sighing and Chuck is starting to get annoyed because he wants to sleep.

 

“Hey. Hey, Rals…” Chuck mumbles, nudging at Raleigh’s shoulder.

 

Raleigh rolls to his other side, facing Chuck. He doesn’t look sleepy at all; his eyes are wide open and looking at Chuck. He can see that much, even in the dark bedroom. Only because Raleigh keeps the curtains open a little. Chuck doesn’t like sleeping in the pitch dark.

 

And Raleigh just lies there, looking up at him.

 

Chuck isn’t sure what moves him. This tight feeling in his chest, maybe, like something has to get out, something that’s making him a little dizzy.

 

But all he can see is Raleigh’s eyes, and then, Raleigh’s face, and Raleigh’s lips, and maybe he is just really sleepy and not thinking but Chuck leans over and kisses Raleigh, just like that.

 

When he realizes Raleigh kisses him back—only a little, lips pushing forward at his own—he thinks he’s going to faint, his heart starts beating that fast.

 

It’s different. Not like it was Yancy. But he can’t describe how, what, why. It’s different than when Raleigh kissed him before, too.

 

He sits back, and Raleigh is still staring at him, moves his hand to his lips.

 

“Chuck…” Raleigh whispers.

 

Chuck really doesn’t want Raleigh to start talking. He’s talked so much already. He wants more of… whatever that was just now.

 

So he leans in and kisses Raleigh again.

 

And this time, Raleigh kisses back a little more firmly, parting his lips, and Chuck can hear the deep sigh that works its way out of Raleigh’s body.

 

“I want this,” Chuck blurts out, when their kiss breaks off again. “Not like before. I mean, I… I like you."

 

Raleigh lets out another long sigh, but doesn’t answer. Chuck can still feel Raleigh’s eyes on him, though.

 

“Say something,” Chuck demands, his hand nudging at Raleigh’s shoulder again.

 

“I like you too,” Raleigh eventually confesses. “But… I don’t… don’t want to take advantage of you.”

 

“It’s not like that,” Chuck replies. He turns around and flicks on the nightlight by the bed.

 

And Raleigh’s expression catches him off-guard. He thought Raleigh was staring at him, but… he’s blushing so hard even his neck looks reddish and his eyes are all soft and weird.

 

“I _like_ you,” Chuck insists, not sure how else to describe it. And maybe he does know how to describe it but he can’t get the words out. Ridiculous, considering some of the things he’s said to people over the past two years.

 

Raleigh hesitantly lifts up a hand and brushes his fingers across Chuck’s cheek, so light that Chuck can barely feel it. And Raleigh’s brow furrows in an expression of sympathy. “Chuck, you’re still… still sick, so,” Raleigh tries to explain.

 

Chuck frowns. “So what?”

 

Raleigh sits up, rubs his eyes. “So I don’t think we should, I should do anything, I mean… it’s not a good idea for you to get involved with someone…”

 

And something just snaps, like the pressure in his chest is too much, it’s working its way up to his throat and shoulders, shooting into his arms and fists and in his head and then he’s pushing Raleigh down onto the bed.

 

“And you’re going to up and decide that for me, yeah?” Chuck says. “Like everyone’s been deciding things for me this whole time?! What about what I want?” He brings his face closer to Raleigh’s. “I like _you_ ,” he repeats. “I want _you_!”

 

And he’s kissing Raleigh again, not soft and careful like before but hard, open, desperate. Wants to make Raleigh feel it, wants him to understand that this is different from before, this isn’t something he feels he has to do or is obliged to do or is even the slightest bit uncertain about.

 

Raleigh kisses him back. Just as hard. His lips part again, wide this time, and let Chuck in, sucks in Chuck’s tongue and presses his own against it, and then Raleigh’s hands are running into his hair and it is the most amazing feeling he’s ever had. And just when he is trailing his own hands towards Raleigh’s face, Raleigh suddenly breaks off the kiss, pushes him away. Leaves him hanging.

 

“No,” Raleigh says, panting. “This is… this isn’t a good idea.”

 

“You were kissing me back!” Chuck exclaims, like that explains everything.

 

Raleigh shakes his head, rubs his temples. “We should… talk about this in the morning,” he sighs, flicks off the lights, and turns his back to Chuck. “Just try to go to sleep, okay?”

 

Chuck glares at Raleigh, eyes filled with fire and tears and hurt, and it’s all wrong. He wants Raleigh. Why doesn’t Raleigh want him? _Everyone_ wants him. They always jump at the chance to touch Chuck’s body, to use it however they want, to get pleasure from it. And now he offered himself to Raleigh, and Raleigh rejected him. Why the hell does it feel like his heart got ripped out of his chest?

 

Chuck wraps his arms around himself and curls up, his back to Raleigh, bites his lips. He tries real hard not to cry, but pretty soon the pillow under his face is wet and his nose is running.

 

Raleigh hears, of course. Chuck can’t stop himself from sniffing and then Raleigh’s arm is around him, Raleigh’s body curving around his and pulling him close. Raleigh’s nose is in his neck and Raleigh’s breath is on his ear, and Chuck shivers from all the sensations.

 

“I’m sorry,” Raleigh whispers. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

 

Chuck doesn’t answer. Just sighs and breathes in, now that Raleigh’s body is so close and Raleigh’s scent envelopes him.

 

“Chuck… everything I do, is not to hurt you,” Raleigh breathes, and his arm around Chuck tightens.

 

“You don’t believe me,” Chuck says in a shaky voice. “You think I’m all broken and fucked up so I don’t know what I’m doing.”

 

He feels Raleigh’s sigh wave through his body, Raleigh’s muscles tensing and relaxing against him.. “That’s not… I don’ t think you’re broken,” Raleigh manages.

 

“You said I was sick,” Chuck grumbles. His nails dig lightly into Raleigh’s arms. “So we can’t do this. That’s what you said.”

 

“But you’re healing,” Raleigh says. “You’re getting better.”

 

Chuck’s eyes are starting to burn. He really needs to clean his face, but doesn’t want to get out of Raleigh’s embrace. The pillow has to be such a mess now. Just like Chuck is.

 

They’re quiet for a while, laying there, spooning and everything. Chuck feels Raleigh’s breathing slow until a soft snore settles in and he knows Raleigh has almost fallen asleep.

 

Chuck whispers, because he’s pretty sure Raleigh won’t hear now, and he needs to say it.

 

“I’ve never felt like this before,” he starts. “Not with… with Yancy, it wasn’t like this. When I think about you it’s like I can’t breathe, and I can’t stop thinking about you, and I want to touch you and kiss you all the time, and… I don’t think it’s weird or a bad thing and I don’t understand why you push me away when—”

 

Raleigh spins Chuck around and pulls him in so tight he really can’t breathe, Raleigh’s strong arms are wrapped around him, and Raleigh’s legs tangle up in his.

 

“It’s not a bad thing,” Raleigh sighs, his lips pressing against Chuck’s neck.

 

Chuck gasps. “I thought you were asleep,” he mumbles.

 

“I thought I was,” Raleigh replies with a chuckle. “Then someone starts babbling about how they can’t breathe, can’t stop thinking about me…” His grip on Chuck loosens and Raleigh’s hand moves up to Chuck’s jaw.

 

“I feel the same way,” Raleigh says, his thumb idly stroking over Chuck’s cheek.

 

“... wanting to touch me? … Kiss me?” Chuck says, biting his lip. And it’s really, incredibly weird how he has said the dirtiest things to Yancy in the past but now, now that it’s Raleigh, it’s like the smallest confession makes him feel red-hot, painfully vulnerable, and at the same time he wants to say these things so badly his jaw trembles under Raleigh’s touch.

 

Raleigh nods. “Yeah.”

 

“Then… then could you?” Chuck says, pushing the words out of his mouth with what feels like they have to come all the way from his toes.

 

And he can feel Raleigh debating with himself, the tension in his arms, in his whole body, the way he’s still trying to hold back.

 

“Kiss me, Raleigh,” Chuck whispers, and kisses Raleigh first, breathy and needy, trying to tease Raleigh’s lips apart with his tongue. And he takes Raleigh’s hand, traces a path with it down his chest and hips until he places Raleigh’s hand firmly on his ass. “Touch me.”

 

Raleigh’s resistance breaking down and his soft, heavy but gentle love and passion washing over Chuck is the sweetest feeling in the world. Like everywhere Raleigh touches him heats up, all the little changes in Raleigh’s muscles pressing differently against Chuck’s body. And Raleigh’s lips, readily parting, letting Chuck in, a soft moan escaping Raleigh when their tongues meet and entangle again.

 

And then Raleigh’s hand on his behind tightens and Chuck groans, _loudly_ , so loud they both have to laugh, into their kiss, because they still don’t want to part their lips.

 

It’s so good, is all Chuck can think, so incredibly _warm_ , not like the nauseating coiling heat he felt with Yancy. He knows he keeps comparing all this to Yancy, but that’s because it’s the only other relationship he’s had.

 

Only now, under Raleigh’s touch, he _feels_ how skewed things were with Yancy, like everything back then was twisted, a vision in his memory seen through a fun house mirror, shattered and bent. And now, with Raleigh, it feels whole, right, _normal_. Like he can let himself go and find himself again after, safe and sound.

 

Chuck’s fingers dig into the skin of Raleigh’s back, pushing at the hard muscles. “Raleigh,” he breathes, clinging to him. A sense of desperation overcomes him, wanting to feel Raleigh, wanting to be touched by him so badly he’s not sure what to do anymore. “Raleigh…”

 

Raleigh’s hands run up and down his back, fingers pressing down in small soothing circles. Chuck shudders into Raleigh’s touch, letting out sighs and moans, and encouraged by this Raleigh continues to run his hands over Chuck’s body. Gentle yet firm, almost reverent, and Chuck rolls onto his back with a soft purr, lavishing in the attention.

 

He’s not even sure what is happening; Raleigh is… giving him a massage, or petting him, but he can’t remember being touched this way by anyone before. Yancy was always claiming, eager to take and devour Chuck. And those who came after Yancy only treated Chuck’s body like their personal masturbatory toy, a warm fleshy object for them to use, as if Chuck was not a person at all, didn’t have a say in it, didn’t get to say no.

 

He doesn’t realize he’s started crying until Raleigh’s hands move up to his face, and Raleigh’s lips are on his cheeks, kissing away his tears.

 

“Are you okay?” Raleigh whispers. “I’m sorry if I did anything to—”

 

“It’s okay,” Chuck manages to say, shaking. “It’s… good.”

 

Raleigh presses his forehead against Chuck’s. “Do you want me to stop?”

 

Chuck bites his lip and considers, but he doesn’t want to stop at all, even though he’s scared, even though he can feel a familiar darkness starting to surface somewhere in his mind, memories that went untouched for as long as his body was untouched. But he wants this, craves Raleigh, and if he is going to fall he knows Raleigh’s arms, Raleigh’s bed, is the safest place to be.

 

“No,” Chuck replies after a while. “Don’t stop.”

 

“Okay,” Raleigh says, and moves to place a kiss between Chuck’s eyes. “Tell me when it becomes too much for you.”

 

Chuck nods as Raleigh moves lower, kisses the tip of his nose, his cheeks, and then his lips. Raleigh doesn’t have to tease his way inside, as Chuck readily parts his mouth, lets Raleigh in, welcomes him.

 

By now, they’re both hard, nudging against eachother’s thighs, but Raleigh ignores it. Focuses his attention on Chuck’s entire body. His thumbs work circles into Chuck’s neck and shoulders, and Chuck moans a little when the light pain of Raleigh’s firm massage blends into the release of tension. Warmth flushes down his arms and back, and he grinds up into Raleigh a little.

 

Raleigh smiles against Chuck’s shoulder, runs his hands down Chuck’s back again with the same rolling and pressing motions in his thumbs, igniting goosebumps where-ever he teases the tension away. Chuck feels himself becoming more and more pliant, relaxing into Raleigh’s touch, almost—almost as if he's surrendering, but once again, not like before. Not out of desperation and confusion this time, but out of… warmth, and safety.

 

Raleigh’s hands—so big, warm, strong—find their way to Chuck’s buttocks again, and Chuck hears Raleigh’s sharp intake of breath, right before Raleigh’s hands squeeze his cheeks and bring another long groan out of Chuck, loud enough to startle himself.

 

“You like that?” Raleigh gasps, and it’s not like Chuck doesn’t notice Raleigh’s reaction to Chuck’s noises of pleasure, Raleigh’s erection hardening further against his hip.

 

“Y-yeah,” Chuck whispers.

 

Raleigh does it again, fingers digging into Chuck’s soft flesh, and Chuck whimpers, his hips bucking up of their own accord.

 

And with that, Raleigh’s big hands start to massage Chuck’s buttocks, kneading and rolling, tugging Chuck’s cheeks apart and running his fingers between the creases where Chuck’s ass and thighs meet, until Chuck is moaning and whimpering against him, rutting his hard-on into Raleigh’s hip.

 

Raleigh slides his hands up Chuck’s thighs until his thumbs are on Chuck’s sides, teasing at the elastic band of Chuck’s boxers.

 

“Do you want me to keep going?” Raleigh says, fingers trembling on Chuck’s skin.

 

Oh, he definitely wants Raleigh to keep going. The skin of his ass is tingling, heated up and softened by Raleigh’s attention, and if Chuck is really honest with himself he… wants to feel Raleigh inside. And at the same time, doesn’t. Thinks he’d be opening a door not knowing what’s hiding there. Knowing it wouldn’t be good. And he’s not ready. Even though he wants it so much it aches inside, low and insistent.

 

Chuck nods. “Yeah… yes, please,” he mumbles.

 

Raleigh sighs. “You don’t have to say please,” he whispers. “Never have to beg me. I’ll take care of you, Chuck. Always.” And buries his head in the crook of Chuck’s neck, trailing kisses up to his ear, across his jaw.

 

“Okay,” Chuck whimpers. Wants to believe Raleigh so badly, but he’s not sure how—not sure how to imagine himself not begging in this situation.

 

But then Raleigh’s fingers thrum along the edge of his boxers, tracing the aching length of Chuck’s dick through the fabric. “Is it okay if I take care of you?” Raleigh sighs, his body shuddering against Chuck’s.

 

Chuck manages to whimper a ‘yes’, clinging to Raleigh, and then almost cries out when Raleigh’s hand finally slips under the band of his underwear and wraps around his cock.

 

“Oh fuck,” Chuck gasps, thrusting into Raleigh’s grip so hard it surprises himself, the need sudden and overwhelming.

 

Raleigh picks up on it and simply tightens his hand around the head of Chuck’s cock, slicked up by precum, and keeps it there, moving along only lightly with Chuck’s own desperate pumps.

 

Chuck’s mind blanks out momentarily, it’s too much, Raleigh’s warm, inviting hand and the drag of skin over the sensitive head. And with a few more strokes he’s there already, spilling over Raleigh’s hand with rapid, shuddering jerks of his hips.

 

Raleigh’s hand pulls out as Chuck is still shivering, the aftershocks of his quick, needy orgasm still coursing through his body as Raleigh’s arms wrap around him again, pulling him in tight.

 

“Raleigh,” Chuck pants, his hands seeking Raleigh’s hair, lips seeking Raleigh’s mouth. “Raleigh,” he repeats, and then, “Thank you.”

 

Raleigh shakes his head. “Don’t have to thank me. I want you to feel good, Chuck.”

 

Chuck understands what Raleigh is trying to say, but he can’t help it. Can’t help feeling the urge to beg when his need intensifies, the gratefulness that overwhelms him when he is given what he wants. He doesn’t know how else to express his desires.

 

Chuck shudders, his fingers digging into Raleigh’s skin. And then it’s like the room turns inside out.

 

He can still see and feel Raleigh around him, but it’s like he is far away. Chuck’s throat feels tight, his breathing turns quick and shallow, his stomach churns.

 

“Rals, I feel weird,” he mumbles.

 

He vaguely hears Raleigh ask what is wrong, sees Raleigh’s face turn contorted with worry.

 

“I don’t know,” Chuck tries to answer, but he’s not sure if the words come out right.

 

His skin feels itchy, it’s like the room started spinning around him, and flecks of light dance in his vision. “I really don’t feel good, I have to… have to get up—” Chuck rambles.

 

And then he’s gone.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck is dealing with his recovery at the Becket mansion. His past haunts him whilst he has to tolerate being separated from Raleigh, and he finds an unlikely new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH GOD FINALLY.
> 
> This chapter took so long to write. I think I started it like five times and then threw half out and started again and just...
> 
> There is a LOT of build up and setup here and almost approaches gen fic, were it not for the mentions to Chuck's traumatic past. And unlike previous chapters, this one is almost all from Chuck's POV. 
> 
> Major thanks to [ishyko](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ishyko) for helping me brainstorm, the anon on Tumblr who dreamt about the new chapter of the fic (totally kept me going idk who you are <3) and just... thank all of you for all your freaking patience, wow.
> 
> Finally, because this took for freaking ever, I didn't do my usual thorough self-editing and there may be some inconsistencies and weird errors. Totally appreciate those being pointed out! Concrit is always welcome. <3
> 
> TIMELINE:
> 
>   
> (open in new tab for larger version)

 

 

 

**Scene 34 - Raleigh**

 

When Dr. Lanphier made certain that Chuck was sound asleep, barely recovered from his panic attack, she took Raleigh apart and pretty much tore him a new one.

 

“What the _hell_ were you thinking!?” she shouted the second Raleigh sat down in her office. She got up off her seat and marched towards Raleigh, hands on her hips. “Forcing him into sexual contact this early in his treatment! You should have checked with me—you should have known better!”

 

Raleigh slumped into his seat and buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t… didn’t think something like this would happen.”

 

Lanphier grumbled and sat down again, folding her hands in her lap. “Chuck needs to be guided through his process of recovery,” she bit at him. “A triggered attack like this could set him back for weeks.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Raleigh repeated. He ran a hand through his hair. “But I didn’t force anything! I… I told him it was a bad idea, and he just started crying, and I didn’t know what else to do, just wanted to make him feel better, wanted to…”

 

Lanphier sighed, took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbing out the tension.  “I’m afraid I can’t let this continue,” she said after a while. “Chuck lends a great deal of comfort from you, but… this is too much.”

 

Raleigh shook his head. “What do you mean, you can’t…?”

 

Lanphier glared at him. “Chuck needs to be able to cope on his own,” she said. “His dependence on you is already too strong. I blame myself for not seeing this sooner.”

 

“So what are you saying,” Raleigh said, his heart sinking. “You don’t want me to see Chuck anymore?”

 

“That’s exactly what I am saying,” Lanphier replied. “He needs to get his own room, manage his own day, live his own life. Given the unusual circumstances... he can’t leave this mansion.” She sighed. “But it’s big enough for him to mostly stay out of your way.”

 

Raleigh was still shaking his head. “You can’t do that,” he said. “He needs me.”

 

“And what will happen to him if something happens to you, Raleigh?” Dr. Lanphier shot back, raising her brow in an expression of sympathy.

 

Raleigh felt like he was mentally hit by a ton of bricks. What Lanphier was getting at turned into a crystal clear picture in his mind. Raleigh sank his face into his palms again. “Fuck,” he mumbled, shaking his head some more. “Fuck, you’re right...”

 

Dr. Lanphier sighed. “Yes. Chuck will not get better if he is just exchanging one unhealthy relationship for another.”

 

“I get it, I know,” Raleigh said. “I’ll… talk to him. Get Tendo to put him in another room.” He ran a hand through his hair. Was Chuck even going to be okay with that? Raleigh wasn’t sure. But Lanphier knew what was best for Chuck, right?

 

He got up from his seat. “All right, doc,” Raleigh sighed. “Thanks, I guess.”

 

Lanphier nodded. “Remember, Raleigh. This is about what’s good for Chuck. Not what’s good for you.”

 

Raleigh frowned. “I’m not that selfish,” he shot back, folding his arms across his chest.

 

“Good,” Lanphier replied. “Because Chuck needs that. Needs someone who doesn’t need anything from him.”

 

Raleigh had had just about his fill of being reprimanded by the doctor. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered as he exited Lanphier’s office. “I know, okay?”

  
  


**Scene 35  - Chuck**

 

Chuck dragged himself into his new room with the grumpiest face possible. The room was nice, of course. Super nice. He was living in a _mansion_. The design of the house was based on the French Renaissance architecture and it was all rich carpets and curtains and stone and flowers and baubles everywhere. But he didn’t care if his new room was like a palace, he wanted to be with Raleigh, in Raleigh’s room, in Raleigh’s bed. He didn’t care what the doctor’s professional opinion was, there was no way any of it made him feel better.

 

“I don’t like any of this,” he grumbled, turning towards Raleigh.

 

“Me neither,” Raleigh sighed. “But the doctor has a point…”

 

Chuck clenched his fists and walked up to Raleigh. “I’m tired of everyone deciding things for me!” he snapped. “I told you so when we…”

 

Raleigh looked away. “You know we can’t do that stuff anymore,” he mumbled.

 

Chuck’s glare intensified. With everything he’d been through, Raleigh was the only place he felt safe and comfortable and now…

“I don’t see why not,” Chuck said in a low voice.

 

Now Raleigh’s eyes met his, just as fierce. “You don’t know what it was like, seeing you like that!” he blurted out. “You were just… gone, and it was my fault.” He clenched his fists by his side. “I don’t wanna see you like that again.”

 

It was Chuck’s turn to look away. It wasn’t his fault he was so fucked up he couldn’t even make out, but he was supposed to deal with the aftermath all on his own. It wasn’t not fair. So not fucking fair. Chuck scrunched his eyes together, tried to swallow the tears away before they burst out again.

 

“Hey. Hey, come on,” Raleigh said, arms reaching out for Chuck, despite Lanphier’s insistence to not have physical contact.

 

Chuck could barely muster any protest, and fell into the embrace, as familiar and warm as ever.

 

“I’m so tired of this,” Chuck muttered, his face half-buried in Raleigh’s sweater.

 

“What do you mean?” Raleigh said, his voice a little shaky as he rubbed Chuck’s back.

 

Chuck looked up. “Being sick,” he said, and tears stung his eyes. “Having to be all careful. I don’t… I don’t think any of you understand.” He sighed and burrowed into Raleigh’s chest again.

 

Raleigh’s arms wrapped tighter around him. “I could understand if you told me.”

 

Chuck shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.” He bit his lip, the memories surging up through his mind. Like he could tell Raleigh.  Like any of them would know what it was like, to be forced to open up your body to strangers, one after another and another until their faces blurred together.

 

With Yancy it was never like that. Despite everything, Chuck knew that Yancy cared about him. He’d been able to feel it in every touch, hear it in Yancy’s words. They kept saying, Yancy abused him, like it was all awful, but he’d liked it, loved it even, and he didn’t care what the law said about it. And Yancy had also done a lot of things that had made him sick and ignored his pleas to stop but… but Yancy wasn’t… wasn’t Scott. Yancy had never made him feel like a _thing_.

 

Chuck’s fingers tightened in Raleigh’s sweater. “I’m not a thing,” he whispered.

 

“Hm?” Raleigh said, nudging at Chuck.

 

Yancy hadn’t used him the way Scott had. Like an object. Like he wasn’t even a person, just… holes.

 

And Scott had only been the first of them.

 

Crap, he was crying again, wasn’t he.

 

Raleigh’s arms loosened around him and Raleigh raised his hands to Chuck’s face, thumbs wiping at Chuck’s cheeks. It didn’t really help, the tears kept coming.

 

“I’m sorry,” Raleigh mumbled. “I made you cry.”

 

Chuck shook his head. “It’s not your fault I’m a mess,” he said softly.

 

Before Raleigh could tighten the embrace again, Chuck pried himself out of Raleigh’s arms and walked to the bed, climbed on top of it and pulled his legs up to his chest.

 

It hurt. No matter how often he talked about it with Stephanie, it never went away. For a short while, it seemed to work, this weird technique she had with moving her finger back and forth. But at some point, it stopped. The pain didn’t become any less, the fear didn’t go away. It was just him and his burden, and nobody he knew understood. Hell, Raleigh was the only person he trusted right now, and if he knew the truth, knew all the details… he’d probably grow to hate Chuck. Be disgusted by him.

 

Just as… just as much as Chuck was disgusted by himself. He’d sometimes… with Yancy, he’d loved it, and when there was a john who reminded him of Yancy he would… he didn’t want to like it, but it happened anyway and—  

 

_You’re just a dirty little whore, aren’t you, Chuckie-boy?_

 

“I’m not,” Chuck whispered.

 

_It’s like you were born to do this, always begging me for it with your eyes, you know it’s true. See, you’re hard right now. Your body’s honest for me._

 

Chuck clasped his hands over his ears as if that would drown out the voice in his head. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He couldn’t help it, his body had just reacted, he didn’t want it, he hated it, hated it—

 

Warmth closed around him, and with it, silence. His fingers weaved into the familiar soft fabric.

 

“It’s okay,” Raleigh whispered. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

 

Chuck’s body folded itself into Raleigh’s as if he could disappear in it. Raleigh’s presence always did this to him—calmed him down, silenced the screeching in his head.

 

Maybe Stephanie was right about this being unhealthy for him. But he… how was he supposed to make it through the day without Raleigh? Or make it through the night?

 

After they lay there for a while, Raleigh wriggled against him, and then, Chuck was left clinging to Raleigh’s sweater.

 

“Uh…”

 

He was still a little out of it. What was Raleigh doing? They weren’t supposed to make out… right?

 

“Keep it,” Raleigh said with a smile. “Maybe it’ll help.”

 

That Raleigh looked really, extra hot in the white shirt he had on underneath was certainly helping. Chuck’s anxiety sank away and heat stirred up under his skin in its place.

 

But Raleigh sat up and got off the bed. “I’m sorry. I think… we should give the doctor’s advice a try.”

 

Chuck frowned and sniffed the fabric of the sweater.Maybe it could help. A little. And somewhere he was also proud and stubborn and wanted to meet Stephanie’s challenge, wanted to see if he could sleep alone despite everything.

 

He pulled the sweater over his head. With Raleigh being a lot broader than him, Chuck almost disappeared in it. But it was nice. Warm. And smelled like Raleigh.

 

“Okay,” Chuck mumbled. “Thanks.”

 

Raleigh leaned forward, lips pursed, heading for the top of Chuck’s head.

 

Chuck tilted his head back and rushed up to meet Raleigh’s lips with his own.

 

He felt Raleigh smile, and kind of smiled back in return.

 

“That’s not what we agreed on,” Raleigh mumbled.

 

“What about if we do just this,” Chuck said. He could take it, right? He could handle kisses. He was a mess, but not that much of a basket case.

 

“Hmmm…” Raleigh said, but he was already leaning forward again. Chuck met his lips eagerly, and a bit of heat flushed into his chest. He wanted more, so much more. And now he couldn’t.

 

He didn’t remember much of the episode himself. He’d just woken up in Raleigh’s bed with Raleigh, Stephanie and Tendo in the room, and the doctor had explained that he’d had a panic attack and fainted from the rapid drop in blood pressure. All very medical, and he felt fine after. Mostly. But he’d scared the hell out of Raleigh. The whole thing had disturbed Raleigh more than it did Chuck himself. So now Raleigh was insisting on doing everything Stephanie’s way.

 

But, well. Chuck didn’t feel like it. Especially not now. So he parted his lips a little, ran his tongue over Raleigh’s lips.

 

Raleigh smiled again, and then rose to Chuck’s implicit invitation, parting his own lips and bringing his tongue out to meet Chuck’s before leaning down further, capturing Chuck’s mouth in a full, open kiss, their tongues sliding against each other.

 

Chuck moaned a little and brought a hand up to cling to Raleigh’s shirt, pulling him down to deepen the kiss. And Raleigh’s hand cupped Chuck’s jaw, fingers tracing the line from his chin to his ear.

 

“Chuck,” Raleigh breathed, managing to break off the kiss.

 

Chuck bit his lip and batted his eyelids at Raleigh. “Yeah?”

 

“We shouldn’t…”

 

Chuck frowned. “Just kissing is okay, right?”

 

Raleigh’s brow went up, his forehead forming long curved lines. “Maybe, but… we’ve got to go slow and…”

 

Chuck’s hand touched Raleigh’s thigh lightly, and his gaze flitted towards the bulge in Raleigh’s slacks.

 

Yeah, if just kissing made that happen…

 

Chuck squirmed, the ache in his own groin definitely noticeable. He wanted more than this, but he also didn’t want to freak Raleigh out by fainting again or whatever.

 

Chuck clenched the fist that was still resting on the sheets. “You know,” he started. “Isn’t it okay as long as we stay in separate rooms?” His other hand snuck idly higher up Raleigh’s thigh.

 

Raleigh placed his hand over Chuck’s and gently pushed it down again. “I… I think we should wait a bit,” Raleigh said in a pained voice.

 

Chuck frowned and then curled up, turning away from Raleigh. “Fine,” he muttered. “Then just leave me alone.”

 

“Chuck…” Raleigh’s hand went to his shoulder again. “I’m not… I still feel that way about you, ok?”

 

“Hmph,” was Chuck’s reply. Even if Raleigh felt that way, it still hurt, being rejected. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to know all the things they could be doing together if they couldn’t actually do them.

 

He let out a bitter laugh before he could stop himself as his thoughts wandered to all the things he’d already done, with so many guys he’d lost count. And here Raleigh was, trying to be all careful, like Chuck was some kind of blushing virgin.

 

It was ridiculous and misguided and Chuck didn’t want to wake Raleigh up to the truth. Because Raleigh thinking of him as some kind of innocent, vulnerable creature was better than the alternative.

 

He subconsciously traced the line of his bottom left rib, remembering how Scott’s pocket knife cut along its curve and Scott had moved to lick up the blood, like the psycho he was. And then licked the trail of blood along Chuck’s length.

 

Chuck shuddered. Yeah, it was better if Raleigh kept his illusions. It was nice, like this. Raleigh actually thinking Chuck was worth something. Convincing each other they were in love.

 

Chuck burrowed into Raleigh’s sweater some more.

 

It wouldn’t last, he knew. It wouldn’t. But if he could just believe it all for a little bit longer, that would be nice.

 

Raleigh’s lips pressed on the side of his temple. “Are you going to be okay, tonight?” Raleigh said softly.

 

“Yeah,” Chuck answered. He didn’t really think so, but what else was he gonna say.

 

“Remember, if there’s anything, just… call Tendo or… I’m a floor up and corridor to the right, yeah?” Raleigh said.

 

“Uh-huh,” Chuck mumbled, curling up even more.

 

“Sleep tight,” Raleigh said, placing another kiss on Chuck’s head.

 

Chuck didn’t answer, didn’t want Raleigh to leave. But Raleigh did anyway.

 

And for the first time in months, Chuck felt truly alone, too small in a room that was too big and too quiet.

 

He pulled the turtleneck of Raleigh’s sweater up to his nose and breathed in the scent.

 

“Raleigh,” he whispered to himself. And it reminded him of when he was in the cage, whispering Yancy’s name over and over. It wasn’t a welcome memory.

  
Chuck climbed under the sheets, not caring how hot wearing a sweater under the duvet would make him. He wrapped his arms around himself, and breathed Raleigh’s name again and again, until he fell asleep.

 

_He couldn’t move._

 

_He remembered, Yancy never tied me up. Yancy made me obey with his words. With his hands. Never like that._

_  
Scott tied me up. Made it so I couldn’t move._

 

_But not like this, either._

 

_He tried to look around, but couldn’t move his head. Every inch of his skin was so sensitive he could feel the slightest brush of air against it, but he couldn’t move. And there wasn’t any rope. He didn’t feel the pressure of it on his skin._

 

_Someone put a hand behind his head and lifted it up to look._

 

_He was lying flat on some kind of X-shaped platform._

 

_Someone approached him, a figure wearing a dark purple, hooded robe. Their face looked really weird until he realized they were wearing a mask, eyes and mouth glowing blue in the dark. They wrapped a gloved hand around his soft penis, lifted it up, pulled back the foreskin._

 

_When he saw the glint of a needle in the figure’s hand, he wanted to scream._

 

_But he couldn’t scream._

 

_He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t scream, he couldn’t—_

 

Chuck shook awake, convulsing and coughing, his throat so tight all it produced was a squeak even though he was shrieking in his mind. He was bathing in sweat, shaking. He was dreaming, was having a nightmare, but—what was it about? The images were fading and the more he tried to hold on to them the quicker they slipped out of his consciousness, slippery and dark.

 

He flicked on the light. Raleigh had told him he’d had nightmares before, almost every night, but… he could never remember them, and he usually didn’t wake up like this.

 

Raleigh’s presence must’ve calmed him down in his sleep, too.

 

Chuck tapped the console next to the bed. 3 am? Great. Everyone was asleep now, and he was wide awake. And somehow… he didn’t want to wake Raleigh. Wanted to prove that this was worth the trouble, that he could make it through the night. Even though he also wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed with Raleigh and bury his face into Raleigh’s broad, warm chest. But that was just the thing, as long as Raleigh was convinced Chuck was all weak and dependent, he was going to keep his distance, like the doctor told him to. So Chuck would have to prove he could handle it. He’d have to… earn his reward.

 

But right now, he couldn’t get back to sleep. Or he might just go right back to the nightmare.

 

Chuck climbed out of bed and only then became aware that in his sleep he’d somehow pulled off Raleigh’s sweater and tossed it on the floor. It must’ve gotten too warm or something. He picked it up and huffed Raleigh’s scent again, and felt kind of silly for it. But it helped, a little.

 

He put the sweater on and a pair of slacks, sat on the edge of his bed, and wondered what he was going to do. Read a book? Listen to some music?

 

And just like that, it occurred to him that this was the first time he was in the mansion kind of unattended to, without Raleigh or Tendo or anyone keeping an eye on him.

 

And he knew exactly where he was going.

 

They’d been keeping him away from a part of the house, which they called the west wing. It sounded kind of poetic, like from an old book or film. And he’d been non-stop curious about it since Raleigh told him he couldn’t go in there.

 

What else was he to do, right? He chuckled, the prospect of a nightly adventure through the dark mansion suddenly exciting. He couldn’t recall the last time he could wander around carelessly and unseen.

 

So he put on a pair of socks and snuck out of his room, heading straight for the large mahogany doors he’d seen Tendo and Raleigh slip in and out of.

 

He expected the doors to be locked, what with all the secrecy, but they opened with a loud creak. Chuck squeezed himself into the small opening and didn’t close the doors behind him, not wanting to cause more noise.

 

The hallway in front of him wasn’t entirely dark; a dimly lit modest chandelier lit up the stone floor and walls. He figured he’d be used to the interior decoration of the house, but he still rolled his eyes at the overdone appearance of wealth. The Beckets _were_ rich, but still. Chandeliers?

 

He walked further inside, not sure where he was heading. When he made it to the end of the hall, he saw a faint light upstairs, and headed for it.

 

He felt oddly at ease and cheerful, breaking the rules like this. Something he’d been trained not to do, but his training hadn’t been about houses, anyway. This was new, different, interesting.

 

When he approached the light he saw it came from a room at the top of the stairs. He placed his hand on the door and slowly pushed it open.

 

And then just about got a heart attack when a high-pitched voice spoke to him from the dark, just outside the reach of the nightlight at the door.

 

“Lee? Is that you? Why are you here so late?”

 

Chuck was frozen in place. “Er, um…”

 

The light in the room flickered on, and then he was faced with a large, unusual hospital bed, with a small girl inside it. Some tubes and wires were going from her to the wall, and an interface lit up within the reach of her hand.

 

“Stay right there!” she shouted in an angry voice. “Who are you? Are you here to rob me? Lee will totally kick your ass.”

 

Chuck couldn’t help himself—he burst into laughter. Because she looked like such a frail little thing, shouting at him with a daring voice, thinking he was a burglar or something.

 

“It’s, it’s okay,” he said, approaching the bed.. “My name is Chuck. I’m a… friend of Raleigh.”

 

The girl narrowed her eyes at him. “If you’re a burglar you could be lying,” she muttered.

 

“Do burglars introduce themselves?” Chuck replied.

 

The girl frowned. “Maybe not,” she admitted grudgingly.

 

Chuck thought of something, and stepped closer to the bed. “Plus, would a criminal be wearing Raleigh’s sweater?”

 

The girl cocked her head at him. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

Chuck was standing close enough to her to touch, so he lifted up his arm and brought it to her face. “See?”

 

She sniffed. “Smells like Lee,” she concluded, and looked up at Chuck. “You’re weird. Why would you be wearing Lee’s sweater?”

 

Chuck laughed, and blushed when he recalled Raleigh giving it to him. “Um, well…”

 

The girl’s face lit up. “Ooh, I know! You’re Charlie!” She pointed at him, even if he was the only other person in the room. “Lee has been talking about you the whole time. He isn’t even interested in my stories anymore! _You’re_ Charlie!”

 

“Uh, what?” Chuck stammered. “My name is Chuck—”

 

“That’s a stupid name, so I called you Charlie.” the girl said without an ounce of shame.

 

Chuck burst into laughter again. This tiny girl was something else. “That’s a good guess,” he chuckled. “My official name is Charles…”

 

“I knew it!” she said proudly.

 

Chuck shook his head, grinning.  “So, what’s _your_ name?” he shot back amused.

 

The girl puffed up her chest and jutted out her jaw at him. “ _I’m_ Jazmine,” she said.

 

“Jazmine is a pretty name,” Chuck said. It was.

 

“I don’t need your flattery, mister,” Jazmine replied, but her eyes were sparkling and she blushed.

 

Jazmine was lovely, Chuck thought. Despite being obviously sick for some reason, she was cheerful and feisty. And most importantly… she wasn’t treading on eggshells around him. Everyone else always acted like he was going to fall apart any second, even Raleigh.

 

Chuck grabbed one of the chairs near the bed and sat down. “So… Raleigh has been talking about me the whole time, huh?” he ventured, not having forgotten Jazmine’s earlier comment.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jazmine said with a cheeky smile. She crooked a finger towards Chuck.

 

He leaned closer, and she perched a hand next to her mouth. “I’ll tell you,” she whispered, “But it’ll be our secret.”

 

Chuck nodded. “Okay,” he whispered back, smiling.

 

“Lee likes you,” Jazmine whispered reverently, convinced this was highly important information Chuck didn’t know yet. He grinned.

 

And, blushed. Because it dawned on him that he hadn’t been sure, not really—figured Raleigh was just feeling sorry for him. But here this girl was, confirming what he wanted so badly to be true.

 

“Aah! You’re turning red!” Jazmine exclaimed. “You like Lee too!”

 

Chuck facepalmed. Why was this girl getting to him? But he couldn’t help it—it’s like she just stumbled right through his walls. Much like Raleigh did, with his stupid big smile, and…

 

Which looked a lot like the big smile plastered on Jazmine’s face right now. Chuck blinked. Now that he saw the resemblance, it was unmistakable. Only Jazmine had pitch black hair and brown eyes, but everything else was…

 

“You’re Raleigh’s sister, aren’t you? And Yancy’s,” Chuck said. Feeling that instinctive pang he had whenever saying Yancy’s name out loud.

 

Jazmine bit her lip. “That’s my secret,” she whispered.

 

Chuck really wondered why she was cooped up in here.

 

“So you found Jaz,” Raleigh said behind him.

 

Chuck jumped off his chair, almost getting his second heart attack that night. “R-Rals,” he stammered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I couldn’t get back to sleep, and—”

 

Raleigh’s hand was on his shoulder, big and reassuring. “It’s fine, Chuck,” he said, voice soft and calm. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you two. It just… the timing wasn’t right. You have a lot on your mind.”

 

Chuck shrugged. “So?”

 

“Yeah!” Jazmine said from the bed. “Why not sooner, Lee?”

 

Raleigh smiled and walked up to Jazmine, running a hand through her hair. “Well, he’s here now, Jaz,” he grinned.

 

“You’re so stupid,” Jazmine pouted. “He likes you!”

 

“Hey!” Chuck exclaimed. “That was our secret, wasn’t it?” He folded his arms and glared at Jazmine, but playfully. She knew he wasn’t really angry.

 

“It doesn’t count when you both like each other,” Jazmine replied matter-of-factly.

 

Raleigh and Chuck shared a look. “I guess it doesn’t,” Chuck said with a smile.

 

“No, it doesn’t,” Raleigh agreed.

 

Jazmine narrowed her eyes and glared at both of them. “Now that you woke me all up, you better read my new story, Lee,” she muttered.

 

“All right,” Raleigh said, picking up the tablet from her nightstand. “Show me what you wrote.”

 

Chuck smiled, sitting down again, glancing at Jazmine and Raleigh. This was unexpectedly nice. The nightmare he’d had entirely forgotten, he spent the next hour in Raleigh and Jazmine’s company, reading and talking about all of her stories. Finally, exhausted, she fell asleep, and they snuck out of her room.

 

As they walked back to the east part of the mansion, Chuck finally asked.

 

“So, um… what’s … going on?” He wasn’t sure how to bring it up.

 

“Why we’re hiding our sister in the mansion?” Raleigh said with a weak smile. “It’s… a long story. A difficult one. I guess, that’s why I didn’t tell you before.”

 

“Tell me now,” Chuck insisted. Part of it was worry, but the rest was all burning curiosity. Jazmine hadn’t come across as unhappy or isolated, but she was apparently hidden from others. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

 

Raleigh sighed. “Jaz is only our half-sister,” he said. “Me and Yance’s parents, they’re both blonde and blue-eyed, y’see. So…”

 

“Your mother had…” Chuck ventured, carefully.

 

“An affair, yeah.” Raleigh frowned. “And Jazmine’s father, well. That’s Tendo.”

 

Chuck stopped in his tracks.  “ _What?_ ”

 

Raleigh shot him a sad look. “Yeah. And Jaz, she… she was really sick, even before she was born. She almost didn’t make it. And mom died giving birth to Jaz.”

 

Chuck’s brow furrowed in a sympathetic look. “That’s so sad,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

 

“After that, dad left,” Raleigh continued. “Me and Yance were just teenagers… so Tendo took care of us. Practically raised us, was a father to Jaz.

 

“Is that why you all keep hiding her?” Chuck said, a bit more angry than he’d intended. It just didn’t seem right.

 

Raleigh sighed. “No, she’s… really weak, Chuck. We thought she wouldn’t even make it to her tenth birthday…”

 

Chuck heard the tremor in Raleigh’s voice, and realized he might’ve overstepped his bounds. Was it any of his business? Maybe not, but he lived here now, right?

 

“I’m sorry,” Chuck said.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Raleigh replied. He resumed walking, and they went back to Chuck’s room in silence.

 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Raleigh said. “You had a nightmare, right?”

 

Chuck bit his lip. “Yeah. But I’ll just… manage, ok? I have to.” He frowned, not sure how he could convey this to Raleigh without sounding stupid. He wanted to earn the right to be with Raleigh. It was the kind of feeling that made sense to him, because of what happened, because of his training. But Raleigh… wouldn’t get it.

 

Chuck stood on his toes and kissed Raleigh’s cheek. “Good night,” he mumbled, and slipped back into his room before Raleigh had a chance to react.

 

As he climbed back into bed, he heard Raleigh mutter ‘night’ and walk away.

 

Chuck burrowed into the big, fluffy duvet. A half-sister? What other things was this place hiding?

 

He drifted off to sleep, thinking about Jazmine, the spirited sick girl whose imagination came up with all sorts of wonderful adventures she’d never be able to have. Who hadn’t been expected to live past ten. He’d been through some really bad stuff… but at least he was alive, Chuck thought.

  
  


_April  2022_

 

“You can’t go!” Chuck said, and literally put his foot down.

 

Raleigh’s forehead did that worried wrinkled thing, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I postponed the campaign already and my agent’s…”

 

“What do you care!?” Chuck shot back, and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re rich. Why do you even have a job?”

 

Raleigh smiled. “Because it makes me happy,” he said, shrugging, and brushing a lock out of Chuck’s face. Chuck’s ginger hair had gotten pretty long, and now he had a messy, tousled bunch of red locks that he thought looked nicely rebellious.

 

But that was the wrong thing to say. Chuck slapped Raleigh’s hand off him and looked away.

 

“Ah… I didn’t mean it like that,” Raleigh hurried. “Look, I’ve got a contract. It’s a commitment. And maybe it’ll be good for us, right?” He scratched his head.

 

“How is you leaving me alone here good?!” Chuck exclaimed, flashing another glare up at Raleigh.

 

“You’re not alone. Jaz and Tendo are here—”

 

“They’re not you,” Chuck muttered.

 

“Suppose not,” Raleigh said, and smiled. Reached out a hand. Chuck took it, letting Raleigh pull him in.

 

The past few weeks had been trying for Chuck, ever since they’d spent less time together at Stephanie’s insistence. The first week he’d had nightmares every night, waking up sweating and shouting. And he wasn’t allowed to visit Jazmine in the middle of the night again—Raleigh told him she needed her rest. So he’d been spending more time with her during the day. Almost all the time., really.

 

Jazmine was cheerful, imaginative, social and above all else, young. Chuck learned that she was 14 years old, but still had a more  childish manner because of her relative isolation. And being with her was like… he could be a bit childish, too. He could forget everything that had happened, for a while. He could forget about being 18 years old and having been fucked more often in a year than most people had in a decade. He could forget having to suck cock for a living. Could forget about Yancy’s hands twisting and molding him into a pet. Could maybe even forget about his uncle for a while. With Jazmine, he could pretend to be just a kid.

 

It helped him more than Stephanie’s therapy.

 

But then, Raleigh had told Chuck he was going back to his modeling career, had already postponed it a little, and his new campaign was taking off soon.

 

He’d casually announced it at breakfast, and, well. Chuck usually wasn’t forceful, but he’d dragged Raleigh to his room, slamming the door behind them.

 

And now he found himself in Raleigh’s arms. Always happened, somehow.

 

Only this time, it was different. Raleigh was leaving - _tomorrow_.

 

And Chuck figured he’d been nice and behaved. He hadn’t gotten a panic attack since that one time Raleigh jacked him off and… he’d been sort of wary of touching himself since then. So much that he’d begun to wake up in sticky sheets, his body taking charge of his own refusal to take care of its needs. A few times, he’d caught himself moaning Raleigh’s name as he sleepily rutted into the mattress.

 

He’d been good, right? He’d earned it. And now, Raleigh was going to leave.

 

Chuck’s hands tightened in Raleigh’s sweater, looked up, meeting Raleigh’s eyes. A painfully familiar craving washed over him—the way he’d always responded to Yancy. And he wanted it. Wanted to sink down on his knees right there, wanted Raleigh to make him beg for it.

 

“Chuck? You okay?” Raleigh said, worried, a hand rubbing Chuck’s back.

 

What was he going to say? How was he going to say it? Was Raleigh even going to be okay with it?

 

A full shudder ran through Chuck’s body. This was the first time he’d felt like this since he got out. It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t supposed to want this, was supposed to hate it. Everyone told him it was wrong, Raleigh had kept telling him not to, and…

 

“Chuck,” Raleigh repeated, seeking to lock Chuck’s gaze with his own. “Look at me.”

 

There was a command. Something he recognised. His head snapped up to Raleigh and his eyes locked with Raleigh’s. “Yes,” Chuck replied, and managed to narrowly swallow the ‘sir’ he wanted to add.

 

Fuck, fuck, this was all wrong. But he couldn’t stop it, his entire body flooding with desire, hunger. _Please_ , Chuck thought. Please let him understand, please. His arms and legs trembled against Raleigh’s body, aching for Raleigh to take control.

 

“What’s wrong? You’re shaking all over,” Raleigh said, looking terribly worried.

 

“I’m… I can’t… Raleigh, please,” Chuck managed to say. His chest was all tight. He couldn’t keep this up. He _needed_ …

 

As if being pulled down by an invisible force, Chuck sank to his knees, keeping his eyes locked with Raleigh’s. “Please,” Chuck repeated.

 

Raleigh’s brow went up, shock registering on his face as it began to dawn on him. “Chuck, don’t.”

 

Chuck shook his head. “I have to,” was all he could say. That’s how it felt. He couldn’t… not. He needed this so badly, all of it, all at once. He hadn’t considered it for so long and now, the pent-up desire coursed through him, uncontrollable and fierce, making every inch of his body twinge. “I need this.”

 

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Raleigh said in a strained voice.

 

 _I want you to hurt me_ , Chuck thought. But he didn’t give voice to it. His hands tightened in the denim of Raleigh’s jeans. “Please,” Chuck breathed. “Please, just… make me.”

 

Raleigh’s hands moved to cover Chuck’s. “I can’t do that to you,” Raleigh said, shaking his head with quick jerks.

 

Chuck bowed his head, looked at the floor, tried to find the words to describe what he was feeling and form them in a shape that Raleigh would understand.

 

“I want you to,” Chuck whispered.

 

He looked up again, meeting Raleigh’s gaze, his face torn in an expression of confusion and worry.

 

Chuck’s lip trembled. Raleigh wasn’t going to… he was going to reject Chuck again, wasn’t he?

 

And sure enough, Raleigh kneeled down a bit, grasped Chuck’s elbows and lifted him off the floor, pulling him back into the embrace.

 

“I promised I’d never let anyone hurt you like that again,” Raleigh said.

 

They were lovely words, so strong and protective,  and Chuck heard how much Raleigh cared about him, heard how sincere he was.

 

But they weren’t the words Chuck needed to hear.

 

He breathed, long and deep, the way Stephanie had taught him, to relax and relieve anxiety. It only helped a little.

 

He needed _something_ to take the edge off, and he lifted his arms up, ran his hands into Raleigh’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss. Hard. Chuck put all he could into it, all of his desire and desperation and hunger, breathing and moaning and biting. Taking Raleigh’s mouth, claiming it the way he wanted to be taken and claimed. Showing Raleigh how he wanted it. Rough and fierce and not being treated like some cracked porcelain doll who would break at the lightest touch.

 

And for once, Raleigh didn’t push him away. Instead, where Chuck was pouring in all his coiling need and desire, Raleigh gave him openness and warmth and love, lips parting wide and soft, Raleigh’s tongue lapping slowly and patiently at his own, almost as if… Raleigh was trying to calm him down.

 

It worked.

 

Under Raleigh’s deep, soft kisses, Chuck’s frustration melted, and he sighed against Raleigh’s lips as he sagged into the embrace. And Raleigh didn’t stop until Chuck was like putty in his hands, his body at ease and warm in Raleigh’s arms.

 

Only then, Raleigh let off, and smiled. “There.”

 

A hot spike shot up through Chuck. Raleigh had just totally taken charge, made Chuck’s body obey him, and Raleigh didn’t even realize it. It was entirely different from what Chuck had experienced with Yancy and yet… yet there was something similar about it. Similar enough to dampen the dizzying need that had been tight and painful in his chest.

 

Chuck smiled back. “Yeah.”

 

Raleigh  chuckled. “You’re gonna be okay,” he said. “I’ll call. And, Jazmine will be happy someone’s here. Sometimes Yance and I are both gone and it’s lonely for her.”

 

“I know,” Chuck replied. Jazmine had a lot of friends online, but being alone in a big mansion was still kind of scary.

 

He let go of Raleigh. “I promised to see her before lunch,” Chuck said. “So I’m just…”

 

Raleigh nodded. “I’ll come by later.”

 

As Chuck made his way to Jazmine’s room, he became well aware that the ache was a little less, but not gone. How was he ever going to make it clear to Raleigh that this wasn’t … something bad? It didn’t feel forced, or strange. Like it was a part of him. But was it only a part of him because Yancy had made it so? Chuck wasn’t sure.

  
With Raleigh leaving, he’d have plenty of time to think it over, though.

  
  


_May 2022_

 

The sky was clear, blue, the sun was shining, and there was only a light breeze. Being able to actually lie in the garden on a lounge chair with a book in his lap, Chuck almost found the climate in Anchorage a little bearable. Even though it was still damn cold compared to Sydney. He’d probably never get used to the weather in freaking Alaska.

 

But today was pleasant enough, and sitting there listening to the birds chirp his gaze fell upon the part of the house where Jazmine stayed, and he got a daring idea. How could sunshine be bad for a person, right?

 

An hour later, he was carefully wheeling Jazmine through the mansion’s hallways.

 

“Jaz, you have to stay quiet!” Chuck urged her.

  
Jazmine replied with snorted laughter. “But I’m happy,” she mumbled through her hand, eyes sparkling. “I haven’t been outside, like, forever.”

 

Chuck looked around the  corner of the corridor, made sure no-one was there, and then rolled Jazmine in her wheelchair into the small elevator made for her. She giggled again. “Charlie, you’re going to get in trouble.”

 

“Worth it,” Chuck grinned, and hit the button on the elevator.

 

“Aah!” Jazmine exclaimed, the smile vanishing from her face, her eyes squinting together in pain.

 

Chuck’s face contorted into worry. “Jaz? Are you okay? We don’t have to—this was just a silly idea, maybe—”

 

“I’m-I’m fine,” Jazmine breathed, and Chuck could swear she gritted her teeth. “I wanna go outside.”

 

The specifics of Jazmine’s illness still weren’t clear to Chuck. She wasn’t paralysed, but from the hip down she could barely move without pain, and moving around too much made her very exhausted. On bad days, she could barely eat and drink and had hot or cold flashes. Raleigh had told him it was most likely neurological, but they hadn’t been able to pin down what it was. Perhaps it wasn’t a recognised disease. Or maybe, they just didn’t want to know. Whenever Chuck had asked further, Raleigh had dodged his questions or gave him vague answers, and Chuck had dropped it after a while. Clearly there was some stuff Raleigh wasn’t telling him, and Chuck didn’t want to pry considering he was entirely dependent on the Becket family’s charity.

 

By the time they made it to the glass door of the salon at the back of the house, Jazmine was carrying her big smile again, and she looked up at Chuck behind her. “Come on!”

 

Chuck grinned, pushed open the salon doors and rolled Jazmine out onto the porch. Her face lit up as she took a big gulp of fresh air, and she closed her eyes as Chuck brought her out of the shadow of the porch and into the sunlight.

 

A happy glow sparked in Chuck’s chest when he saw Jazmine’s face light up. She looked a lot paler in the bright sunshine than inside, though.

 

When she opened her eyes again, they were wet, and she brought a hand to her face to wipe at the corners. But Jazmine obviously wasn’t sad.

 

Chuck pushed her onto the grass, and then sat down next to her with a big grin on his face. It made him happy to make her happy. He tilted his head back and took in the sunshine with his eyes closed.

 

After a few seconds, he felt Jazmine’s hand in his hair. “Thanks, Charlie,” she said softly.

 

Chuck smiled, leaning into her touch a little. “You know… I’ve never had a little sister,” he said after a while.

 

“I’m not little,” Jazmine replied.

 

“You kind of are,” Chuck laughed.

 

They sat like that for a bit longer, and then Jazmine’s hand was on his shoulder. “Charlie,” she started. “Help me up.”

 

Chuck carefully got up and stared at Jazmine. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he replied. “You’re not supposed to get up and walk, right?”

 

Jazmine frowned. “But I want to. It’s such a nice day! Come on,” she urged him.

 

Chuck furrowed his brow. “I really don’t — I should ask Tendo.”

 

“Dad just wants me to lie in bed all day and not move!” Jazmine exclaimed. Her hands balled into fists, and she was glaring at Chuck, her eyes tearing up again, but now with frustration rather than happiness.

 

Chuck sighed. “Jaz, I can’t,” he said, getting down on a knee and putting his hands over hers. He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

 

Jazmine’s lip trembled, her nostrils flared, and her eyes blazed with disappointment and anger. “Then I’ll do it myself!” she snapped, and before Chuck could stop her she swung her arms back and pushed herself out of the chair.

 

“Jaz, no!”

 

He was sitting in front of her and was quick to catch her, Jazmine falling into his arms. And she let out a loud, pained cry. “Charlie,” she breathed.

 

“Jaz, Jaz, you can’t do this,” Chuck gasped. “Please, just get back down…”

 

Jazmine’s arms wrapped around him, but she kept standing, shaking, and Chuck felt her breathe heavily to keep the pain at bay.

 

“You know, don’t you?” Jazmine gasped. “When you want to stand and people keep telling you to sit down. You know, Charlie.”

 

Chuck frowned. She was right, but… he hadn’t told Jazmine much about his past.

 

“I do,” he replied.

 

Jazmine’s fingers dug into his arms. “I’m so tired, Charlie,” she sighed.

 

Chuck nodded. “Me too, Jaz,” he whispered. “Me too.”

 

Jazmine slumped against him, and he carefully let her back down into the chair. “Tired,” she mumbled, and then Chuck saw her eyes roll away as she sank into sleep.

 

His heart nearly pounded out of his chest as he wheeled Jazmine back inside and to her room, he was that scared of being caught. Maybe all this had been a bad idea after all.

 

As he helped Jazmine back into bed, she woke up a little and grabbed his hand. “Thank you for today,” she mumbled with a weak smile, and then her head fell back into the pillow.

 

Chuck smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  


The next day, shouting from the staff through the halls woke him up early, and he got up, got dressed and went to see what was going on. Pretty soon, he caught mention of Jazmine and before he knew it he ran into her room, where Tendo stood by her bed, on the phone.  And as soon as Chuck entered the room, Tendo shot him a vile look.  “Get out of here, _boy_ ,” the Chief of Staff said in an icy voice. “You’ve done enough.”

 

Chuck froze, and then firm hands dragged him out of the room. “Let me go!” he said, struggling against the grip of one of the members of staff—Jan, by the feel of it. Huge guy, and Chuck would never be able to overpower him in some way.

 

Jazmine was hurt, there was something wrong with her, and it was all his fault—

 

Jan dragged him back to his room and locked him in there. Chuck slammed his fists on the door, shouting for them to let him out, shouting all sorts of apologies, and eventually he sagged onto the floor, crying. “I didn’t know! I didn’t think it was that bad, I just wanted her to see the sun! Please let her be okay, please...”

 

After a while he crawled into bed, trying to stay calm, and failing. There was a knock on the door, and it unlocked, with Stephanie stepping inside. She walked up to the bed.

 

“Chuck, I’m sorry for how the staff has treated you,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “They listen to Tendo, and, well. He’s not too happy with you right now.”

 

“I know,” Chuck mumbled, and sat up. “Just… tell me if she’s okay?”

 

Stephanie shook her head. “We don’t know,” she said. “I’m sorry. She won’t wake up.”

 

Chuck’s eyes went large with shock and he ran his hands into his hair. “It’s my fault,” he said. “I’m so sorry! Please, please let her be okay, oh god...”

 

Stephanie gave him a sympathetic look, but didn’t try to calm him with unhelpful platitudes. She went to fetch him a glass of water and a box of tissues.

 

“Since Jazmine can’t be transported, there will be an emergency team here soon, along with the family doctor,” Stephanie explained. “I don’t think you’re at risk here, but…”

 

“It’s best I stay out of sight,” Chuck finished her train of thought. “I get it.” He gulped the water down in one go.

 

“Also… Yancy is coming back from LA as soon as possible,” Stephanie said. “We haven’t been able to get a hold of Raleigh yet, he’s doing a shoot in Paris…”

 

Chuck blinked, cleaning up his face with a tissue. Last he heard, Yancy was still in some village near the Yukon or whatever. And Yancy. He hadn’t seen him since that day, since him and Raleigh had the falling out, and they’d told Raleigh everything, and.... Chuck let out a shaky breath. It was all too much at once. Chuck wished he hadn’t had that stupid idea to take Jazmine outside, even if had made her happy for a while. Now… now she wouldn’t wake up. She could even die, for all he knew.

 

He curled up in bed and wrapped his arms around himself. “I’m sorry, Jaz,” he said, and bit his lip hard not to cry. It didn’t work.

  
  
  


Yancy arrived later in the day. Chuck wasn’t sure when, because he’d stayed in bed, nodding off now and then, wishing the world would go away and he could just die if it would save Jazmine.

 

There was a knock on his door, and Chuck pretended to be asleep. It was close to the truth, anyway.

 

But Yancy took one step inside and Chuck knew it was him.

 

His body responded as automatically as it had back in December. Chuck rolled out of bed, moved to sit on his knees and looked up at Yancy expectantly. His lips formed the word ‘owner’ without sound.

 

It was so easy, so familiar. The world was spinning around and this was the center. With Yancy’s presence, all the confusion and turmoil grinded to a halt, and Chuck’s singular focus became to obey his owner.

 

Raleigh, Stephanie, Tendo, they’d all told him it was wrong. That he needed to be treated and helped and cured. And rationally, Chuck knew they were right.

 

But he couldn’t help it. And when he was like this, he wasn’t even sure he _wanted_ to. Yancy’s training of him had been intense, thorough and absolute. Yancy had broken him and put him back together and he couldn’t stop reacting to Yancy this way any more than he could stop breathing.

 

“Chuck,” Yancy said, walking up to him. “Please get up.”

 

Though it was unlike Yancy to command him with ‘please’, Chuck obeyed and rose to his feet. Yancy was still taller than him, but Chuck had grown at least an inch in the past five months. It was uncomfortable to stand face-to-face with Yancy, and Chuck tried to make himself smaller, hunching a little.

 

Yancy shook his head. “You don’t have to obey me, Chuck. It’s over, remember?”

 

Chuck frowned. He didn’t understand. After Mako and the Kaidonovskies had disobeyed Pentecost and helped him escape, Chuck had always kind of assumed that he’d be back with Yancy eventually. Even after Raleigh became his Master, and —

 

He blinked. This wasn’t — he had had treatment, right? Wasn’t supposed to think like this. He’d snapped out of it. Right, he wasn’t… owned anymore.

 

He scrunched up his face, looked up at Yancy. He’d slipped into that state of mind so fast, he hadn’t even questioned it.

 

Chuck sighed. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

 

The desire and need hit him so hard he almost staggered.

 

It was like before, with Raleigh, coming from another place than his learned obedience. And just like with Raleigh,  the urge was near impossible to resist.

 

“Yancy, please,” he breathed.

 

“Chuck, don’t—” Yancy replied, and Chuck swallowed hard because Raleigh had said the exact same thing.

 

It was the last drop, really.

 

“You’re going to reject me as well?” Chuck said bitterly, tears stinging his eyes. “You made me into this, and now… now that I need it, for real, you bail out.” His shoulders shook and his nails dug into the fabric of his slacks. “Goddammit…”

 

Yancy’s hand weaved into his hair and from it flowed a kind of strength, and Chuck settled down a little.

 

“Chuck, we’ve got to work this out later,” Yancy said. “Right now we have to worry about Jazmine.”

 

His tone was more than a little annoyed, and fierce hot shame flushed up through Chuck, followed by crushing guilt. Shit, Yancy was right. What the fuck was he doing, thinking about his own needs at a time like this? He was selfish, and stupid, and so messed up he couldn’t even see straight.

 

“Shit…” Chuck mumbled, and sat down on the bed. “Shit, I’m sorry… “

 

He buried his face in his hands, and tried hard not to cry, again.  He’d been so used to it, everyone worrying about him, but now there was someone else in the house who need help more urgently. Ugh. He was spoiled and a shitty friend and he’d gotten Jazmine sick and now he was a disappointment to Yancy. And god, what about Raleigh? When he’d hear what happened, would he even want to see Chuck anymore? Maybe they were just going to kick him out, what the hell did any of them care about a used whore like him? He didn’t matter at all. He’d gotten lazy and comfortable and now he was getting what he deserved.

 

Yancy’s hands clapped together loud in front of him. “Snap out of it, Chuck,” Yancy said. In that firm, authoritative voice that wrung around Chuck like a hand of steel. “You can’t do anything for Jazmine if you sit there feeling sorry for yourself.”

 

Chuck looked up, desperate. “What _can_ I do?” he mumbled.

 

“You can help make it right,” Yancy answered. “Get yourself cleaned up and come to Jazmine’s room. The staff will let you in this time.”

 

Yancy left, and Chuck followed his orders as well as always, showing up at Jazmine’s room half an hour later with everyone glaring at him.

 

Probably picking up on the noise outside, Yancy called out. “You can come in, Chuck.”

 

Chuck took a deep breath and entered Jazmine’s room.

 

She looked pale, and was hooked up to several monitors that let out calm bleeps. So she was alive, and stable? Tendo was standing at one side of the bed, glaring at Chuck, but staying quiet. Chuck bit his lip, afraid to say or do anything unless told to.

 

There were twoother people in the room Chuck did not recognize: next to Yancy stood a tall, thin woman with long black hair, at the other side of the bed, holding Jazmine’s hand. The few streaks of grey in her locks betrayed her age, which her face did not. Finally, in one corner of the room, a woman in a lab coat and blonde hair stuck up in a messy bun was working and fussing with a pile of highly advanced looking computer equipment.

 

“Chuck, meet Kaori Jessop,” Yancy said.

 

Kaori's gaze was… something else. Chuck shivered. It was as if she could see right through him, and that terrified him. He instinctively stepped back.

 

“Chuck,” Kaori said, and reached out her hand. “It’s okay.”

 

Her voice was very calm and soothing, the complete opposite of her eyes. Chuck wasn’t sure what to make of her at all.

 

“Kaori is a hypnotherapist,” Yancy explained. “She helped us, once. You can trust her.”

 

Chuck swallowed his nerves as best he could. “Okay,” he mumbled. “How can I help?”

 

Yancy shared a look with Tendo and Kaori, and then nodded. “Jazmine is in a coma, but stable,” he explained. “We don’t know what is wrong with her or how to bring her out of it with… conventional methods.”

 

Chuck nodded, not sure what Yancy was getting at, and let him talk.

 

“My company, JaegerTech, has been doing a lot of work on human-robot interfaces,” Yancy continued. “Through the Pons neural bridge, our brains can take control of robots and move them around. We have a product line of six robots suited for—”

 

The woman in the lab coat who hadn’t introduced herself yet strutted towards them and stepped in between Yancy and Chuck. “This isn’t a marketing pitch, Yancy,” she huffed, and then turned towards Chuck.

 

“The core algorithms of the neurorobotic cognitive interface named the Pons are designed to mimic the electrical impulses of an organic brain using carbon-silicon nanocircuitry,” she rambled. “It wasn’t until we had an unfortunate event with our CH-Alpha series Jaegers—Construction Heavy, a prototype, the first of that size, 21 feet, 4 inches in height—”

 

“Caitlin, this isn’t a tech conference,” Yancy cut in, and just as well, because Chuck had no idea what she was saying.

 

“Yes, but he — sorry kid, what was your name? Buck?” the woman said.

 

“Chuck.”

 

“Right. I am Dr. Lightcap. Caitlin. Chief Engineer. I build things,” Caitlin went on. “So. We set up the neural bridge between our first test driver and the CH-Alpha, and it… blew up. Sergio got one hell of a seizure, eyes looking bloodshot. Turns out that once you get to a physical mass-to-energy ratio, the Pons circuitry cannot translate back its data to the human brain. Too much of it, compression leads to data loss, leads to inaccurate information, and failure to control the robot…”

 

Chuck just kind of slowly nodded along with her explanation, which for all intents and purposes sounded very awesome and sci-fi, but he had no idea what it meant for Jazmine, or what his part in it was. Yancy just shrugged, evidently trusting Caitlin to get to the point eventually.

 

“You need to have a load balancer, but you can’t do that with the Pons, there will be an intolerable delay,” Caitlin continued. “But you could manage the data with a second brain, see? Share the pool of data, you don’t just double the bandwidth, because it’s organic. Human consciousness, more than the sum, right? Data gets shared between brains, it becomes more. You can create a bridge and you’d have four times the bandwidth, even more, depending on the neural handshake stability—”

 

“But how does that help Jazmine?” Chuck interrupted her. He was getting impatient, and her sciencey technobabble was getting increasingly confusing. “Why would we need a robot?!”

 

“We don’t,” Yancy replied. “We just need you.”

 

Chuck blinked. “Uh?”

 

“I have created a stable organic bidirectional neural interface. An extension of the original Pons system,” Caitlin said. “Unfortunately, just as the neurorobotic design, it is only capable of bridging compatible neural maps.”

 

“Drift compatible brains,” Yancy added, and then gestured for Caitlin to shush. “Chuck, it’s like a blood type, only for brains, and even more rare. It runs in your family, and in mine.”

 

Chuck shook his head. Because he was damn sure he had heard this phrase somewhere before. And before that. It kept coming back to him. But who’d said it?

 

Mako.

 

Mako had mentioned it, after she… rescued him. Because she was somehow reacting to his presence, his body, and she’d called it that. Drift compatible.

 

And she’d said Yancy was like that too, and it’s why he formed that bond with Yancy, and…

 

The conclusion just bursted out into his mind, like a million pieces crashing together to form one painfully bright map, clear as day.

 

It had _always_ been this thing. This Drift shit. It’s why Yancy had wanted to train him, and more, it’s why Mako reacted, and…  his uncle. Uncle Scott who claimed to have wanted Chuck since he was barely a teenager. Because of the Drift. Because of the robot brain thing and the compatibility made people react to each other, physically, sexually. It’s why everything had totally fucked up in his life and—

 

 _“There is a very specific kind of slave the Kaiju want_.”

 

Mako’s words.

 

It’s why the Kaiju would want him, which is why Pentecost wanted him.

 

And it was why Yancy wanted him to help Jazmine.

 

Chuck took a real deep breath. “You want to connect my brain to Jazmine’s.”

 

“Yes,” Yancy replied simply.

 

Chuck shook his head with a sad smile. “Yancy. I can’t,” he said. “Do you even know what’s inside my head? I don’t even know, and when I remember in my dreams, I wake up screaming.” Chuck sighed. “Jaz shouldn’t…”

 

There was a hand on his shoulder, and Chuck turned to find Kaori standing by his side.

 

“That is why I am here, Chuck,” she said. “I may be able to prevent Jazmine from reaching those memories.”

 

Chuck frowned. Even if such a thing was possible, why? He looked at Yancy. “Why don’t you just do this with her? You said it’s in your family. Or get Rals to do it.”

 

Yancy shook his head. “We can’t. It’s too much. We can’t risk her seeing some things.”

 

Chuck’s frown deepened. “Like it’s worse than in my head?”

 

“You care about Jazmine,” Tendo said, bitterly. It was the first time he’d spoken since Chuck entered the room. “And it was not your mother she killed.”

 

Chuck’s eyebrows went up in shock, and when he glanced at Yancy, Yancy was avoiding his gaze.

 

“Is that why…?” Chuck stammered. “You hate her for that?”

 

Yancy shook his head so fast his features almost blurred. “No, god no. I love Jaz, so much. But Chuck. She doesn’t know, is what Tendo’s trying to say. Doesn’t know why mom passed away. She—”

 

“She’d hate herself for it, wouldn’t she,” Chuck mumbled, dropping his chin to his chest.

 

Yancy nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“But I know about that, so how’s that different?” Chuck said.

 

“I can prevent some memories from being seen in the Drift,” Kaori replied. “Especially newer ones.”

 

Finally, the entire picture made sense. All of his fucked up shit was new, and Jazmine wouldn’t see it. Somehow.

 

Chuck sighed. “Is any of this going to work?”

 

Yancy gave him a weak smile. “It’s all we got.”

 

Chuck took a long, deep breath, and met Yancy’s gaze as bravely as he could.

 

“Then let’s do it.”

  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raleigh parties it up in Paris whilst Chuck finally learns what happened to him in the year before he arrived at the Becket mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, oh god. I wrote this chapter in LESS THAN A WEEK. The previous one was like hell to get through but this one I just blasted through? WTF, writing muses.
> 
> Okay. So...
> 
>  
> 
> ****  
> _MAJOR ARCHIVE WARNINGS: rape, torture, sexual abuse, dubcon and general fucked-up ness._  
>   
> 
> I'm so, so sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> TIMELINE
> 
>   
> (open in tab for larger version)

 

 

 

_24 hours earlier_

**Scene 36 - Raleigh**

"All right Rals, a bit more to the left, yeah, that's it. Give us the smile..."

 

Raleigh turned, posed and smiled for the camera, stunning as always, rock hard abs and sleek steel muscles glistening under the bright studio lights.

 

He'd almost forgotten how much he loved doing this.

 

At first he'd felt guilty about leaving Chuck behind in Anchorage, but as much as he hated himself for feeling this way, he felt better now, lighter, happier. He hadn’t realized how much his responsibility for Chuck had weighed on him. Before he'd met Chuck things had been much... easier. Campaigns, shoots, then vacation or break at home, catching up with Jaz. And in between, going out on the town, find the best club, find the hottest guy there who wasn’t him...

 

Almost seemed like a completely different world when he was stuck in Alaska.

 

He hated that he thought of it that way but he _had_ felt stuck, held back, even though he really did care about Chuck and wanted him to get better. And he hadn’t liked Lanphier’s orders at first but when he found he could actually breathe and relax during the day... he didn't mind as much anymore.

 

 

He’d never really asked for that kind of responsibility. Maybe he didn’t even want it. It was just that… when Chuck had arrived, naked in a cage, it had been fascinating, the way Chuck had just gone straight for his dick. Only up until his higher brain functions and sense of decency kicked in and he realized how messed up the situation was. And then he got caught up trying to figure out what the hell was going on, with Yancy, and then…

 

Before he knew it, he was taking care of Chuck all day, being the boy’s comfort and support and shoulders to cry on. It’d felt good, at first. Useful. Raleigh wasn’t used to being that useful to anyone. Yancy and Tendo had always taken care of the family, of Jaz, of the business. Had encouraged Raleigh to follow his dreams, do what he wanted, and he had. He wasn’t particularly smart or talented, but he had his stunning looks, and pretty soon he got into modeling.

 

Hadn’t even realized how much he missed it until his days had begun to blur together in the mansion.

 

It wasn’t fair to Chuck to think like that. Wasn’t fair to himself, maybe. Hadn’t he… wasn’t he in love?

 

“Rals, what’s with the sad eyes? Show us some sparkle!”

 

Raleigh shook it off and flashed a charming gaze at the lens.

 

“That’s the stuff. Turn to the side? Arms behind your head, flex up. Yeah, like that…”

 

He was beginning to wonder if it was love. Maybe… he just really cared about Chuck, and he was horny, or something.

 

Fuck, it had been months since…

 

“That’s a wrap! Good job, everyone.”

 

Raleigh relaxed, dropping his arms and rolling his shoulders back. He couldn’t wait to get into the shower and get all this oil off his skin. He patted the motorcycle he’d been leaning on and ran a hand through his hair, which was growing past his ears, now.

 

The photographer walked up to him, frowning. Not such a good job, then.

 

“Mind telling me what the hell is wrong with you, Rals? You been staring off into space for half the shoot, and looking like a kicked puppy for the rest!” the photographer practically shouted at him. The muscles in his neck seemed to flex with every word and his eyes were shooting fire.

 

“Sorry,” Raleigh said, putting on a bathrobe that one of the studio assistants handed to him. “Been out of it.”

 

“Don’t need to fucking tell me that,” the photographer shot back. “You come back from winter looking like a goddamn zombie…” He poked at Raleigh’s cheek. “Took you three hours in make-up just to look presentable!”

 

Raleigh sighed. “Family drama going on,” he mumbled. Wasn’t too far from the truth.

 

“Well, leave that shit in Alaska,” the photographer bit at him. “Go take a shower, get a drink, get laid and come back here tomorrow looking like fucking sunshine, you got that? Our campaign theme is blond heat, not surly depression.”

 

“Yeah, boss,” Raleigh replied. The guy was a blunt as a hammer, but he had a point.

 

That night, Raleigh found himself doing just about what he was told. Paris nightlife was pretty fantastic, and getting shouted at by his photographer definitely hadn’t gone past the attention of his co-models. So they dragged him to _Homme Roux_ , pretty much _the_ gay nightclub of Paris, and were going to make sure Raleigh had the best night out, ever.

 

He had some doubts when a small glass with silken green liquor was presented to him, knowing full well what absinthe could do to a man, but his entire body cried out for it, for letting go, for release. Wanted to forget about the cold, the tears, the screaming. It wasn’t fair to Chuck, he knew. But he needed it. Needed to feel like himself again. Chuck had brought out a nurturing side to him Raleigh didn’t even knew existed, but he’d lost touch with the rest of his sides. Especially this one.

 

Worry melted away, made place for the thick buzz of alcohol, the burn of liquor sliding down his throat. The dance floor was a mass of writhing bodies, and one particular body found his, grinding against him, hands digging into his sides and back. Raleigh groaned.

 

He wasn’t cheating, right? It wasn’t like that between him and Chuck. Maybe, maybe it shouldn’t be, at all. Maybe what he had felt for the boy was just because of the circumstances and the worry, because Chuck was so young and so beautiful and so damaged, and Raleigh wanted to make his pain go away, wanted to kiss his scars away inside and outside. And he couldn’t. Wasn’t allowed to or supposed to or…

 

Firm hands cupped his ass cheeks and Raleigh hissed, heat surging up his spine, and he ground into the stranger’s palms before he could stop himself. Didn’t even know what this guy looked like.

 

Raleigh’s eyes met his, this dude who had his hands all over Raleigh, and was struck by the similarity. Ginger hair, freckles, strong jaw, high hairline, and that brow.

 

He went hard so fast he braced himself against the guy. Whose face burst into a wide, luscious grin at Raleigh’s obvious reaction. Slid one hand to Raleigh’s front, and ground his palm against Raleigh’s erection.

 

Raleigh was pretty sure he _whined_. Fuck, it had been such a long time since… and he’d spent a fair amount of time pining after Chuck, when what he really wanted, the boy couldn’t give to him, not yet or maybe never.

 

The guy’s chest pressed against his and a hot breath on his ear made Raleigh shiver.

 

“Whaddaya say you ‘n me find some place private,” the man growled.

 

Raleigh’s last reservations vanished into thin air with that voice, its rumble sending goosebumps down his spine, and his jeans were too goddamn tight and —

 

“Fuck, yeah,” Raleigh gasped, running a hand up the guy’s impressive biceps.

 

He let the guy drag him into the _roux_ area of the club, passing several other short-term couples on the way there, the sight of hallway blowjobs further decreasing the space in Raleigh’s pants.

 

To his credit, Raleigh’s soon-to-be hook-up yanked him past the bathrooms and straight into one of the smaller lounge rooms in the back, obviously designed for people to fuck there.

 

Raleigh was slammed down into a lounge couch and the guy sank to his knees in front of him, hands working Raleigh’s zipper.

 

“Mmmm,” Raleigh mumbled, the current of desire and heat dragging him down, his body practically trembling with how much he needed this.

 

“‘s your name?” Raleigh murmured, hands carding through curly ginger locks.

 

The guy looked up, glint in his eye. “Max,” he said.

 

“Hey, Max,” Raleigh grinned as Max yanked Raleigh’s jeans down an inch and pulled his dick out, which was so freaking hard Raleigh thought he was gonna cry. “I’m —”

 

“Know who you are, mate,” Max growled. And wrapped his lips around Raleigh’s cock.

 

“Oh, fuck…” Raleigh gasped, the wet heat of Max’ mouth already overloading his senses. His hand pushed down on Max’ head, and Max took him down deeper until the head of his dick was pressing against the back of Max’ throat. Raleigh whimpered, pressure already building up in his balls. Max swallowed around Raleigh’s length with practiced ease, tongue teasing the shaft as Max’ hands slid up Raleigh’s thighs, almost reassuring, and then Raleigh got close so fast all he could do was let out a tight, strangled noise before he emptied himself into Max’ mouth. Release washed over him, dizzying and light, and he laughed out loud. Fuck, he’d needed that.

 

Max grinned, and sat up, pulling Raleigh into a kiss that tasted of his own come. Max’ fingers hooked at the edge of Raleigh’s jeans and pulled them down to his knees, and Max laughed. “Came prepared, did ya?” He flipped Raleigh around, palming his bare ass cheeks, nails running over the elastic bands of Raleigh’s jock strap. “Easy access,” Max murmured.

 

Raleigh gasped, leaning into Max’ touch. “C’mon,’ Raleigh said, arching his hips as he climbed onto the couch. Another low, rumbling laugh from Max and a slicked-up finger pressed against Raleigh’s asshole.

 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Max muttered as he slid his digit inside, and Raleigh let out a long whine. Max was right, it hurt like _hell_ , and it was one goddamn finger. Raleigh had taken a lot more than that in the past, so what the hell was going on?

 

He almost screamed when Max tried to push in a second finger. “Stop, gimme a sec,” Raleigh breathed, biting a knuckle. “Fuck…”

 

Max draped himself over Raleigh. “You gotta relax, mate,” he said. “Got just the thing.”

 

Max held a small vial in front of him, which Raleigh recognized all too well. Ah… why the hell not, right? He was aching to get fucked and his body wasn’t cooperating, for whatever reason. He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“That’s a good boy,” Max murmured, and Raleigh shuddered. Wasn’t used to hearing words like that from a casual fuck, and they definitely made his dick stir again.

 

Max popped the lid off the vial and shoved it in one of Raleigh’s nostrils, pressing the other one shut with a finger. Raleigh breathed in deep and fast. The drug shot up through his sinuses like fire, twisted in his head, and then sank through his body, thick and heavy and warm, down his neck and shoulder and spine into his gut, where it coiled up and throbbed. “Ohh, shit…” Raleigh mumbled. He could never quite get used to the quick effects of poppers, and tried to stay calm.

 

“Long deep breaths, that’s right,” Max said, rubbing his back. “It’ll be over soon.”

 

And just then Raleigh felt the knot loosening up, the weird, painful cramps melting away and sinking lower. “Ahhhh,” Raleigh sighed, feeling the tension sluice out of him.

 

Max slid his finger back inside Raleigh’s ass, and this time it barely hurt. Raleigh whimpered. “There, all nice and soft,” Max said with that growling voice of his, sounding even more impatient now. He shoved in a second finger and Raleigh took it easily, backing into the digits with a low moan now that the drug had relaxed his inner muscles.

 

Raleigh heard Max tear open a condom packet, and then Max’ fingers were replaced by the head of his cock, pressing thick and hard against Raleigh’s loosened hole.

 

“Fuck, yeah, come on,” Raleigh panted, and that was all the encouragement Max needed because then his dick pushed inside, sliding easily past Raleigh’s relaxed rings of muscle, all the way in, ‘till Raleigh felt Max’ balls against his ass cheeks. Raleigh let out a long whine as Max filled him up hard and hot, and none of that painful burn and stretch he never quite liked as much as most guys did.

 

Max rocked backwards and then slid back in, and Raleigh shuddered. “Feels good like this, don’t it?” Max grunted.

 

Raleigh tried to form words but all he could manage was a desperate moan, and Max chuckled, giving Raleigh another pull and thrust before he began to steadily fuck him, every thrust coming faster than the one before, until their groans and sighs filled the room, along with the sound of Max’s thighs slapping against Raleigh’s ass.

 

When the head of Max’ cock dragged over his prostate, Raleigh yelped and bucked his hips up towards Max, spreading his legs apart as far as he could. “Right there, fuck yeah,” Raleigh mumbled. He was starting to get dizzy, body filled with alcohol and drugs and pleasure, and words of praise and filth and curses started to fall from his lips with every brush of Max’ cock against that sweet spot.

 

Raleigh had barely noticed he was hard again, but Max had, wrapping his hand around Raleigh’s dick for Raleigh to fuck into. Then Max curled down over Raleigh and pressed his lips to Raleigh’s ear.

 

“Hey, Rals,” Max growled. “Did my son’s ass feel as good as yours?”

 

Raleigh froze. “Your son?”

 

Max gave a sharp thrust, and his hand went up to Raleigh’s throat, tightening around it. “His name’s _Chuck_ ,” Max said.

 

“Wh-what?” Raleigh coughed, struggling against Max’ grip. Wait… Chuck’s father was called Herc, wasn’t he? Raleigh’s substance-addled mind wasn’t making sense of any of this. Fuck, what the hell was going on?

 

“Yeah, I bet you loved it,” Max—or Herc?—went on, another sharp, hard shove into Raleigh. “Not like he’s gonna say no, right?” Herc’s other hand went around Raleigh’s throat as well.

 

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t… Raleigh was starting to see spots, dancing in front of his eyes. Tried to fight back, but his muscles were still all slack from the drugs.

 

As Raleigh felt himself sink away into darkness, hands fruitlessly trying to get Herc’s arms off him, Herc shuddered against him with a loud groan. “Gonna make you pay for what you did to my son,” Herc growled as he was coming, every line punctuated by a vicious thrust. “Gonna fuck you up, boy. Gonna fuck up your brother Yancy. Your whole goddamn family!”

 

He was gonna die, Raleigh thought. His entire body hurt, his lungs ached for air they couldn’t get, his head felt like it was going to explode. Herc wasn’t even going to give him the chance to explain—

 

“Now now, Herc, I said you could sample the merchandise, not kill it,” a voice came through, and then, the pressure on Raleigh’s throat lessened. Herc’s dick slipped out of him, and Raleigh collapsed on the floor, coughing and gulping for air.

 

“He’s alive, Hannibal,” Herc grumbled. He kicked Raleigh, and Raleigh whined in response. “See? Makes sound and everything.”

 

Raleigh got lifted to his feet by two giant guys full of tattoos and body mods, who propped him up on the couch and kept him there. Just as good, because Raleigh was pretty sure he couldn’t even sit up of his own accord. He tried to form words, ask what the fuck was happening, but his throat felt like someone scraped it down with sandpaper.

 

A tall, dog-faced man with gold-plated shoes approached him, lifted up his chin. “Got his neck all bruised up, Herc,” the man said. “Upstairs ‘s not gonna like that.”

 

“Upstairs can suck my dick, Hannibal,” Herc replied.

 

The man called Hannibal laughed. “I dig your style, Hansen,” he said. “But just so ya know, those blue fuckers’ll cut it off and feed it to you for kicks.”

 

“Hell’s going on,” Raleigh mumbled.

 

Hannibal grinned. “Little birdie told me you’ve been shacking up with Herc’s little boy,” Hannibal said. “Bit of an embarrassment, you see? I found the kid working the streets in Seattle. Sad, very sad. So I put 'm up somewhere safe 'till daddy here can come pick up his boy.”

 

Hannibal took a plastic bag out of his coat. It was full of molars and rusted blood. "But my crew had a bit of a failure in the security department. So I showed them, see, you can work for me and do your fucking job, or you're gonna need a new job with dental insurance. Hahaha!"

 

Hannibal yanked Raleigh’s head back by the hair. “Then Pentecost’s crew, those fucking Russians and that little Japanese thing of his, they don’t take the kid back to Stacker, they haul ‘em to you. Thinkin’ I wouldn’t find out.”

 

He brings his face closer to Raleigh’s. “Now, I got a father here, who’s been real worried. Made some mistakes—” Herc made a growling noise at that “—but he’s gonna make up for it,” Hannibal continued. “I told him, after it’s all done, he can have you, have your pervert brother, do whatever the fuck he wants with you Beckets. Ain’t no money going to protect you in my world, kid.”

 

Raleigh tried to shake his head, tried to clear his mind, but it felt as muddled as ever. He wasn’t even sure any of this was real. In retrospect, combining absinthe with drugs had been a real fucking bad idea.

 

“Didn’t touch ‘m,” Raleigh mumbled. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But he hadn’t fucked Chuck, hadn’t used him like that. Whatever Herc thought happened between him and Chuck, he was wrong.

 

Herc’s fist slammed into the wall next to him in less than a second. “Don’t fuckin’ believe ya,” Herc growled.

 

Raleigh coughed and met Herc’s glare defiantly. Raleigh hadn’t forgotten that Herc was the reason Chuck ended up with Pentecost in the first place. “Big words from the father who sold his own son,” Raleigh spat.

 

Herc’s nostrils flared and he was about to put his fist into Raleigh’s face when Hannibal stopped him. “Can’t argue with that one, Herc,” the big man laughed.

 

“Fuck you,” Herc gritted out.

 

“As nice as this little talk is, I’m in a bit of a hurry,” Hannibal said. “Pack ‘m up, boys.”

 

The two giant tattooed guys who were still holding Raleigh down - or up, he wasn’t sure - hoisted him off the couch, and one of them slung Raleigh over his shoulder like Raleigh weighed nothing.

 

Raleigh tried to get out of the giant guy’s grip, but he might as well be trying to bend steel with his thumbs. The exertion took the last bit of energy he had.

 

Herc laughed, bitterly. “You’re gonna wish I killed ya, kid,” he said, and it was the last thing Raleigh heard before he passed out.

 

_Present day_

**Scene 37 - Chuck**

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Chuck mumbled as Dr. Caitlin Lightcap pushed him down flat onto the bed they’d put up next to Jazmine’s.

 

“Yes,” Caitlin replied, rolling her eyes. Chuck had asked her the same question about ten times. It was late at night, and they had worked all day to get the Pons equipment set up. Even Chuck had to do his part, dragging heavy boxes and cables up the stairs. Jazmine’s room had gradually transformed into a tech lab, the wooden panels of the walls barely visible behind all the wires. One large cable was running from the main Pons core through the entire house, into the basement, to the mansion’s backup power generator, and at least five different people had tripped over it.

 

She’d hooked him up to an array of monitors, all stickers and wires, telling them his heart rate, blood pressure, brain activity and more.

 

Kaori came to stand next to him. Her hair was up in an elaborate braid this time. “Chuck, are you ready?”

 

Chuck sat up a little and glanced around the room. “Where’s Yancy?”

 

“Still trying to get in touch with Raleigh,” Kaori explained, pressing a hand to Chuck’s shoulder to gently push him back down.

 

Chuck bit his lip. “What if something happened to him?” He had a weird, ominous feeling about it.

 

Kaori shook his head. “He’s probably at work. Don’t worry about it, Yancy will take care of it. I want you to focus on the here and now, Chuck. Yancy will be here later on.”

 

Chuck grumbled and let Kaori push him down.

 

“What are you going to do?” Chuck asked. Kaori had explained before, but he’d forgotten half of it, and wanted her to repeat the whole thing just to be sure.

 

“I am going to guide you into a deep state of relaxation,” Kaori said. She checked the wires to make sure Chuck was comfortable. “Then I will use visualization and suggestions to have you temporarily block your memories from Jazmine.”

 

“I thought _you_ were blocking them,” Chuck mumbled. Somehow, he was already feeling kind of sleepy.

 

Kaori smiled. “Hypnosis doesn’t work like that. It’s all in the power of your own mind. I’m just the guide.”

 

Just then, Stephanie entered the room, and nodded at Kaori. She walked up to Chuck. “I’m here to look after you and Jazmine,” she said to him.

 

Chuck nodded, and felt a bit more at ease. Stephanie knew a lot about him and wasn’t a stranger, not like Kaori. He wasn’t about to let Kaori muck around in his mind without someone he at least trusted a little more nearby.

 

“Okay, Chuck, I am going to begin,” Kaori said. “Close your eyes.”

 

When Kaori had talked to him about hypnosis, Chuck had expected something lame like a watch going back and forth and ‘you’re getting very, very sleepy’. But Kaori’s way felt natural, easy; her voice went down in pitch, deeper, softer, and she spoke to Chuck about sinking down into the bed, finding a dark, safe place inside himself. Chuck found that place, and it felt familiar, and then he remember this place in his mind was where he’d go during his training, when it became too much, the pain, being violated, the shame of it. Quiet and silent inside himself, blocking the outside. Kaori’s voice seemed to come from further away, and she told him to count down from a hundred, slowly, seeing the numbers vanish in his mind’s eye.

 

Chuck had expected to fall asleep, but he was still conscious, could still think. He was mostly thinking how this was never going to work.

 

“Imagine all of your painful, hurtful memories from the past two years as pictures in an album,” Kaori said. “Even the ones you cannot see clearly are there, the pictures blurry or dark. Now… there is a chest. And one by one, you take a picture from the album, and you put it in the chest. Slowly. One by one. You pick one up… and you put it in the chest. One after another… until the album is empty, and the chest is full. One by one, every photo… have you put all the pictures away?”

 

“Yes,” Chuck mumbled. He’d visualized the whole thing as Kaori described, but he still wasn’t sure how it was going to help. Wasn’t it just some easy mind trick?

 

“Okay,” Kaori continued in her low, calm voice. “Close the chest. It falls shut, the lock clicking in place. You cannot open the chest. The chest will only open when I speak the words, ‘Tacit Ronin’.”

 

There was a pause, and then, “You can open your eyes now, Chuck.”

 

Chuck blinked, feeling a little light and disoriented, as if waking from a deep sleep. Even though he’d heard Kaori the whole time. And something was different; there was a heaviness in his mind he couldn’t place.

 

“Chuck, do you remember Scott Hansen?” Stephanie asked.

 

Chuck frowned. “Uh, yeah? He’s my uncle.”

 

“And what else?”

 

Chuck sat up. “Um… haven’t seen him in a while, I guess. He’s probably getting drunk and partying with robots, whatever.”

 

Stephanie nodded. “Good. Do you remember why you’re here?”

 

Chuck rolled his eyes. What was the deal with all the obvious questions? “Jazmine got sick, and I’m going to help her.”

 

Kaori glanced at Caitlin, who was at the console in the corner. “Chuck is ready,” she said.

 

Caitlin got up. “Okay. I’ve pinged Yancy. Should be here soon.” She began to tap some controls at the wall console behind Chuck, and the interface lit up.

 

A weird, cold shiver ran through Chuck when Caitlin said that name. _Yancy_. Chuck drew a shaky breath, and wasn’t sure why.

 

Caitlin moved to Jazmine’s side and switched on the console there as well. She glanced at Chuck, who was squirming nervously. “You just sit tight, Puck, and let the real scientists do their job.”

 

Chuck was pretty sure that was a jab at Kaori, but she seemed unfazed by Caitlin’s comment.

 

“It’s Chuck,” he said. “Get it right already.”

 

Caitlin grinned. “Getting cheeky, kid?” She placed a device on Jasmine’s head, which vaguely resembled the Pons headgear that JaegerTech advertised with. This cap looked totally uncool though, with weird metal prongs protruding from the small plastic cap.

 

As soon as Caitlin was satisfied with the equipment secured on Jazmine, she moved to Chuck. “Lie still,” she admonished him, when Chuck’s fingers went to the wires and the cap.

 

Yancy entered the room, and Chuck froze. His entire body just… went weird, like it was trying to do something but Chuck didn’t know what. He squirmed again, and found himself blushing. What the hell was going on? Why was he reacting to this guy like some infatuated teenage girl?

 

“Looks like you’re just about ready,” Yancy said. He seemed to notice Chuck’s reaction, but averted his gaze and walked up to Jazmine first and checked the monitors. “Jaz is stable and still unconscious,” he said. “Delta wave NREM deep sleep…” Then he glanced at Chuck. “How are you doing, Chuck?”

 

“F-fine,” Chuck mumbled. Why the hell did this guy make him stammer? He felt flushed and uncomfortable and looked away from Yancy.

 

Stephanie, who’d been observing from a distance, cast a look from Chuck to Yancy and back. She walked up to Chuck, and practically gave Yancy a death glare.

 

“Kaori and I will take care of Chuck and Jazmine’s mental state during the Drift,” she bit.

 

Yancy met Stephanie’s glare with a curt nod. “Yeah. Thank you.”

 

Chuck frowned. It seemed like they were saying much more than they were actually saying, and he only understood half of the situation, and it was all really annoying. “Can you old farts get this started already?”

 

Kaori chuckled, and Yancy’s face lit up a little. “He really doesn’t remember?” Yancy inquired, glancing at Kaori.

 

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” Chuck muttered, folding his arms across his chest. Which were promptly unfolded by Caitlin.

 

“Stop moving around and lie down,” she said, and rolled her eyes at the others. “Can you all stop distracting him? That would be freaking awesome. This is delicate equipment. Now, please stand back.” She nodded at Yancy. “Conn-Pod is all set up, boss.”

 

“Great work, Caitlin,” Yancy said. Kaori and Stephanie stepped back as told. “Chuck, we’re about ready to go,” he continued.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Chuck replied. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. The last time he felt this nervous he was at the dentist, who’d told him it was only going to hurt a little. And he'd lied.

 

“Initiating Drift sequence,” Caitlin said. Several consoles lit up and began to display a series of running commands and readings.

 

“Sequence active,” Yancy said, tracking the software’s progress. “Power output stable. CPU at 14% capacity. Memory at 12% capacity and increasing.”

 

“Unpacking neural bridge protocols… and loading to memory,” Caitlin continued.

 

“CPU at 17% capacity, memory at 72% and increasing,” Yancy said.

 

Chuck was staring at the ceiling hoping the technobabble would end soon because it was not helping his nerves _at all_. His fingers idly dug into the sheets of the bed he was lying on. Which was more of a stretcher, really, and not all that comfortable.

 

“Protocols ready,” Caitlin said. “Neural handshake dry-run, go.”

 

“CPU OK. Memory OK. EPM output okay. NTS check. HHVM check. GTB ready.” Yancy replied.

 

Chuck kind of rolled his eyes. He couldn’t decide whether it all sounded cool or extremely dorky.

 

“Dry-run passed,” Caitlin continued. “Ready to initiate Drift at your signal.”

 

Yancy took a deep breath. “Init countdown and hold.”

 

“Countdown set and holding at T minus 10 seconds.”

 

Yancy took a last look at the information available, checked Jazmine and Chuck’s vitals, and then got back to the console. “Countdown go.”

 

“Initiating Drift at T minus ten. Nine. Eight. Seven…”

 

Chuck’s fingers dug deeper into the thin cotton sheets. What was going to happen? What was he going to see? Was any of this even a good idea? He trusted these people… right? Or not? It was too late to back out now—

 

“... Four. Three. Two. One—”

 

Everything _surged._

  


There was — silence. Chuck sensed the current of his own memories, weaving through this shared mindspace like clouds. And somewhere in there was a place he couldn’t see, couldn’t feel, a storm brewing at the edge of the horizon.

 

Where was Jazmine?

 

He sent out a call. She had to be here. But for now, all he got was static.

 

Even when people were asleep, they had thoughts, right? Chuck tried to focus, searching for anything that reminded him of Jazmine.

 

There! It was tiny, so small and light he almost missed it, but it was there. A sort of presence that wasn’t him. Like it had a different color or taste.

 

He reached for it again, and this time, the response was stronger, and he sensed - then heard - then _saw_ Jazmine and then she was _there_ , here, with him, all of her, right there, all of her thoughts and memories flooding the space of their shared consciousness.

 

He knew, then. Jazmine showed him. How much she loved her family and how much they lied to her. Guarded their secrets, hid her away from the world, said they loved her, believed they did. But Jaz knew, she always had. She knew that her life came at the cost of the life of their mother, their lover. She knew that her father and her half-brothers had never truly forgiven her, even if they weren’t aware of it, this grudge they all had buried deep inside themselves. But Jazmine knew.

 

The sadness of it washed over him, through him, and he  wanted to comfort her, give her something to make her feel better, but he didn’t have to. Jazmine reached out to him and found his pain, found the loss of his mother, and brought it together with her own grief.

 

Chuck felt a part of himself lighten, something heavy he had carried with him for so long he didn’t know how to put it down anymore, a sense of loss and disappointment in those who were supposed to protect him, take care of him, and all of them had left him, and he’d been all alone —

 

Jazmine’s compassion came through, and she understood, she _knew_ , the way Chuck knew.

 

So many nights Jazmine had been alone in her bed it had become her whole world, until Raleigh at last had taken pity on her, had convinced Yancy and Tendo to get her a console, an account to use, books to read…

 

Anger flamed up in Chuck, but Jazmine soothed it, another wave of understanding. And showed him more, showed him the dark tendrils that ran through the family, poisonous secrets, betrayal, hurt.

 

And Chuck saw how those tendrils had worked their way into Jazmine, through her mother, into her mind, her body. Felt the blackened, acidic roots of sadness, regret, pain and fear that curled down her spine into to her legs, bringing them to a halt.

 

Then Jazmine showed him something he had not thought possible. Just as Mako had explained they had this brain type called ‘Drift compatible’, there was a brain type Jazmine had, the same as her mother’s. This ability Jazmine had come to call Empathy, and Chuck saw how she was able to take someone’s pain and hurt and bring it into herself,  bringing it to ground, like a lightning bolt that would continue to jump from one person to the next, causing more suffering, unless someone could stop it.

 

Jazmine thought her mother may have had the same ability. Again, Chuck sensed the roots of pain that tangled up in her body and Jazmine told him, how she thought her mother had taken her family’s pain into herself and it had transferred to Jazmine, somehow, and it had broken Jazmine’s body.

 

Sadness welled up in Chuck again at Jazmine’s fate, but she tempered it, told him it was okay. Showed him that this was something she could do for them, for her father and her brothers, even if they never knew.

 

Then Jazmine’s curiosity piqued through his mind like a shooting star, sharp and bright, and flew into the dark clouds at the horizon. And he warned her to stay away, tried to push her back from the darkness, afraid of what might happen. He knew there was a good reason that part of his mind was hidden to both of them. Chuck tried to show her; Kaori’s face flashed by, and fear surged up through Jazmine. Fear and apprehension.

 

Chuck didn’t understand. Kaori had helped him, didn’t she?

 

Jazmine tried to show him, tried to explain. A flurry of blurred, vague images passed his mind’s eye, but all he could glean from them was an instinctive bad feeling Jazmine had about Kaori. Worried, Jazmine reached out for the hidden part of his mind again, and he tried to tell Jazmine she shouldn’t try to touch his hidden memories; he wasn’t sure himself, but he knew that it was bad, that it would hurt her, more than what she was already suffering from.

 

As if she had an infinite capacity for it, another wave of acceptance flooded over him; warmth, compassion, love. She urged him to let her in, to show her. It would be okay. She could accept it. It was her purpose.

 

“Neural handshake stable and holding at… 100%.” Yancy was baffled.

 

Chuck opened his eyes.

 

He was still there, with Jazmine. And he didn’t have to turn his head to the side to know that she had opened her eyes as well.

 

They sat up in pure synchronicity.

 

Gasps of surprise around the room, and even an ‘oh, wow’ whisper from Caitlin.

 

_I will accept it, Chuck_.

 

Out of pure habit, he looked to the side and met Jazmine’s eyes.

 

_I don’t know how to let you in._

 

 

Jazmine smiled. “I heard everything,” she said. Her words were meant for the others listening, not Chuck. “I know what to say.”

 

“No, don’t—” Kaori said, but it was too late.

 

Jazmine grabbed Chuck’s hand. _No matter what happens, I am here with you._

 

 

Chuck heard the words before she even spoke them.

 

“Tacit Ronin,” Jazmine whispered.

 

 

Chuck saw everything. The Pandora’s Box in his mind, filled and sealed shut by Kaori, flew open by Jazmine’s words and cascaded through him and over him like an endless waterfall of horrors. What they had done to him, what he had seen. All of it.

 

He’d been brought to an underground brothel, stripped, shackled, gagged and thrown in a cage. They introduced him to Hannibal Chau, who explained to him that he was going to be prepped for Hannibal’s masters, the Kaiju.

 

Chuck had become thankful for his training, which allowed him to bear what Hannibal understood to be preparation.

 

Rather than ropes, they had used drugs or hypnosis to immobilize him. They had given him a tattoo as well — had pulled back his foreskin and put a small mark, right underneath the head of his cock.

 

They’d started out with fucking him in groups, one after another, two together, one in his mouth, one in his ass, until they’d stretched him out enough that he could take two cocks in his hole at once. Sometimes real flesh dicks, sometimes strap-ons, sometimes fists.

 

They’d strapped him down on the floor, stretched his mouth open with a spider gag, and jerked off on him until he was covered in their spunk.

 

They’d displayed him for an audience, having him spanked and fucked on stage. Anyone who wanted to could join in.

 

Filled him up with water and then made him expel it in front of them. Used him as a urinal. Poured hot candle wax over him, causing first-degree burns. Put in a speculum and displayed him up on the table at dinner, where guests looked and prodded inside of him and laughed.

 

They had been in the middle of a strange ritual, painting patterns in his own blood and blue luminescent dye on his skin, when he had heard angry shouting in Russian, and Aleksis had punched his way through to him and got him out.

 

He had seen his father there.

 

Herc hadn’t seen his son; Chuck had been locked in a cage at the back, in the dark. It was intentional, he knew. Knew that Hannibal had wanted him to see it, see Hannibal’s arm clasped over Herc’s shoulder as if they were friends, see the whip in his father’s hand, see the leather vambraces on his father’s arms. Hannibal had wanted Chuck to see that his father was being trained as a Master.

 

Jazmine’s screeching pain tore through his vision in bright red.

 

The images from the Drift vanished, and the room came back to him. He knew that beside him, Jazmine was convulsing and screaming, Yancy rushing to help her.

 

“What are you doing to her!?” Tendo yelled, slamming Chuck back into the bed.

 

“She’s seeing all of it,” Chuck managed. “Taking it all. I — I couldn’t stop her. I’m sorry.” Tears streamed down his cheeks.

 

In their Drift, he could feel her bleeding out, his pain tearing wounds into her psyche. Chuck scrambled to hang on to her, to bring her back together.

 

_Don’t go,_ he cried to her. _Please don’t leave me! You’re the only true friend I have. The only one who understands. Please, Jaz, please don’t go! Jazmine!!_

 

 

“Neural handshake at 23% and dropping!” Caitlin shouted. “Disengage protocols failed! Drift controls are being blocked—”

 

Chuck felt Jazmine being torn out of his mind and he cried out over and over, begging her to stay with him.

 

Desperate, he shot an image at her — that which had kept him hanging on. Raleigh. Raleigh’s arms around him, the warmth, the silence and the comfort; the smell of Raleigh’s sweater, even the feel of Raleigh’s hands on him, Raleigh’s lips on his.

 

And without wanting to, another vision came up, that of seeing Yancy again at the mansion; the pure relief that had surged up through him, the immediate urge to submit, to show Yancy his obedience. The way he had nudged against his owner’s knees and Yancy had caressed and kissed him.

 

All of those memories filled him up with warmth and he sent it all to Jazmine, to what pieces of her he could still sense, whatever he was still connected to. All the love he had left to give.

 

…

 

When they came back from the abyss, it felt like hours had passed, like he’d ran a marathon. His body was cold and his mind was aflame and the contrast between the two made his nerves feel like barbed wires.

 

Jazmine was back.

 

Faint, exhausted, barely conscious.

 

But she was there.

 

“Neural handshake stable at 86%,” Caitlin sighed.

 

“Chuck, we have to disconnect,” Yancy said. “The Pons is overloaded. We don’t know when we’ll have another safe window. But Jazmine—”

 

“She’s okay,” Chuck breathed. “I’ve got her.”

 

Yancy nodded. “Caitlin, enter disengage protocols.”

 

“Done,” Caitlin said. “Drift disconnecting in three, two…”

 

For one frightening second Chuck thought Jazmine might slip away again, but then she answered him - weak, but stubborn.

 

_No matter what happens, remember?_

 

 

Chuck smiled.

 

_Yeah. I’m here._

 

 

Jazmine faded from his mind, and took the darkness with her. Chuck took a deep breath, and he felt lighter than he had in years. He glanced at Jazmine, their thoughts now severed, and immense gratitude welled up in his chest. She’d taken it all, just as she said she had done for her family, soaked up his pain like a sponge. All of it. She had thrown herself between Chuck and the torrent of previously repressed memories, filtering them as they came back to him, catching the worst of it.

 

He never asked her to do that. He hadn’t intended this to happen, hadn’t wanted her to get hurt. But Jaz had plunged herself into the terror and suffering and the absolute feeling of _shame_ he had about what was done to him, without even the slightest doubt. Utterly convinced that it’s what she was born to do.

 

He grabbed her hand, watched as her chest rose and fell with her slow breaths.

 

“Thank you,” Chuck whispered.

 

He knew she could hear him.

 

Chuck glanced up at the others in the room. “I need to talk to Yancy alone,” he said.

 

“I don’t think that’s—” Stephanie started.

 

“I don’t care what any of you think,” Chuck shot back.

 

Yancy raised his eyebrows at Chuck. “You heard him,” he eventually sighed.

 

With some grumbling, Tendo, Kaori, Stephanie and even Caitlin left the room, until it was just Chuck, Yancy and Jazmine.

 

Yancy stood next to Chuck’s bed. “What did you want to talk about?”

 

Chuck glanced at Jazmine. “She could hear everything, you know,” he said. “She still can.”

 

He looked back at Yancy. “She knew everything, too.”

 

Yancy’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

 

“She knows her mother died giving birth to her,” Chuck said. “She knows something terrible happened before she was born, something none of you talk about.” Chuck met Yancy’s eyes again. He chose not to mention how they all hadn’t forgiven her; Jazmine had shown him it was something they were barely aware of themselves. “She’s not like us,” Chuck continued. “Jaz… she takes people’s pain and absorbs it. Grounds it. Just like… just like her mother did.”

 

Yancy’s eyes were wide with shock. “You saw all that in the Drift,” he said in a strained voice.

 

“That’s why she’s so sick,” Chuck went on. “And then… she went and unlocked everything. All of my memories.”

 

Yancy didn’t reply.

 

“I remember the past year,” Chuck said. “The things they did to me…” He leaned forward, and pressed his head against Yancy’s chest. “If it hadn’t been for… for what you did, then I wouldn’t have made it through.”

 

He let out a shaky sigh, the memories now presenting themselves in dulled tones. But even if Jazmine took the worst edge off them, that did not mean they were gone and harmless.

 

Yancy’s hand came up to brush through his hair, and Chuck let out an involuntary gasp.

 

“You said she could hear me,” Yancy said after a while.

 

Chuck nodded against his chest. “Yeah.”

 

Yancy let go of him, and walked up to Jazmine. “Jaz,” he started. “I’m sorry. You bore all of our hurt, and we didn’t know, didn’t think…”

 

He paused, and then, sat on the end of Jazmine’s bed. Glanced at Chuck for a second, and then back to Jazmine.

 

“I’ll tell you all of it, Jazmine. When you wake up. If you want to, I will tell you what happened that brought so much darkness to our family.” Yancy bent forward and placed a kiss on Jazmine’s forehead.

 

Chuck opened his mouth to ask if it had anything to do with Yancy’s odd vacation, when a ringing sound disrupted his train of thought.

 

Yancy rose from the bed and tapped the wireless headset on his right ear. “Yancy here.”

 

Chuck couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end. But he saw Yancy’s face pale, saw Yancy’s hand curl into a fist, saw his jaw tremble.

 

When the call ended, Yancy’s glare was pure ice, cold and ruthless. Chuck instinctively made himself smaller; when Yancy looked like that, it never meant anything good.

 

“That was Mako,” Yancy said. He looked at Chuck. “The Kaiju. They have Raleigh.”

 

 

**Scene 38 - Raleigh**

Raleigh had woken up wasted in a lot of questionable places, but this definitely was the worst. Besides a terrible headache and insistent nausea, he was stripped naked, arms stretched above his head, hands tied together, blindfolded and gagged. He could stand on the balls of his feet, but that was about all the freedom of movement he had.

 

He was in trouble. He was in real trouble. Chuck’s father was looking for revenge, somehow in league with Hannibal Chau - the same guy who’d gotten him to give up Chuck in the first place. And from what he heard, the Kaiju were pulling Hannibal’s strings.

 

He’d never worn a gag before. It made it difficult to swallow, and saliva was dripping down his chin and neck, over his torso. His arms were painfully stretched, he was cold, hungry, thirsty. And that misery didn’t even include the hangover. This was terrible.

 

But, all things considered, he was still alive.

 

Raleigh had no idea how much time had passed when he heard a door open and footsteps coming toward him, the clacking of steel-tipped boots loud on the concrete floor.

 

A hand flew to his throat. Raleigh gurgled into the gag. His neck still hurt from before.

 

“Oi, wake up,” Herc growled, and he let go of Raleigh’s throat to slap him in the face and yanked his head back by the hair. “It’s your lucky day.” Herc got close enough for Raleigh to feel Herc’s breath on his face. “Hannibal wants me to train ya. So yer death has been postponed, kid. Ain’t that grand?”

 

Herc cupped Raleigh’s dick and balls and squeezed, hard. Raleigh let out a muffled yelp, spasming at the sudden pain.

 

“I’m your Master now, boy,” Herc said. “What do you say to that?” He took off Raleigh’s gag, and Raleigh gasped. His chin was wet from spit, and somehow he really wanted to wipe it off, like that was his biggest priority right now.

 

“Why are you doing this,” Raleigh panted. “Don’t you know what Chuck went through?”

 

Herc’s hand squeezed harder, and Raleigh screamed. _Fuck_ , that hurt. The literal version of someone having you by the balls was definitely unpleasant.

 

“Yeah, at the hands of _your_ brother,” Herc growled. “He fucked up my boy, and now I’m gonna fuck you up. Y’know what I call that? Poetic justice.”

 

He let go of Raleigh’s privates, and Raleigh breathed a sigh of relief. He suspected that pointing out again that Herc was to blame for handing over Chuck to Pentecost would not be very helpful in his current predicament, and he wisely shut up.

 

Yancy should figure out he was missing, soon, right?

 

Herc put the gag back in. Raleigh heard Herc scuffle behind him, the sound of a table being dragged across the floor, and then Herc’s hands were on his buttocks. Raleigh cursed into the gag and flailed against his restraints.

 

Herc’s hand came up to the back of his neck. “I suggest you stay still, boy,” he hissed. “Bein’ real nice to you by not tying up yer feet, but I could change my mind.”

 

Raleigh whimpered. Again, he wondered if Chuck had done this — fuck, if Yancy had done this sort of thing to Chuck. Even when they told him, Raleigh couldn’t really imagine what it was like, so…

 

Herc tugged apart Raleigh’s ass cheeks and ran a finger down the cleft, pressing it against his hole. The digit slid in easily, and Herc let out a gritty chuckle. “Not so tight anymore, are ya?”

 

Raleigh groaned. Herc was right, he was still kinda loose, and... oh, shit—

 

“What’s that?” Herc laughed. “You’re enjoying this?” He slowly pumped his finger in and out, pushing at Raleigh’s inner muscles, and Raleigh let out another groan.

 

Goddammit, he wasn’t supposed to like it. It was all fucked up. But the memory from the night before was still swimming around in his head, before it all went to shit, the way Herc had grinded up against him on the dance floor and the poppers sinking through him, loosening him up, and then, Herc’s cock stretching him open—

 

“Looks like I won’t have to work hard to turn you into a grateful slut,” Herc growled, breath hot on Raleigh’s ear, and Raleigh shuddered. He wished to god that Herc was wrong. But his body definitely was responding, despite the situation he was in. Herc’s scent, voice, just his entire presence set Raleigh’s skin on edge, like a current running between them as soon as Herc was near.

 

Herc slipped in a second finger and Raleigh bucked back into it before he could stop himself.

 

“Jesus, kid,” Herc breathed, and he let out a low whistle. “Shoulda been in porn instead of modeling, a dirty little thing like you…”

 

He moved to undo the gag again, and Herc’s hand gripped Raleigh’s jaw from behind. “Let me hear you, boy.”

 

Raleigh gasped, took one deep breath, and then Herc’s fingers went _up_ and _forward_ and smashed into his prostate.

 

“Ohhh, fuck,” Raleigh moaned. “Oh god, right there…”

 

Herc laughed. “You’re unbelievable.” He circled his finger hard against Raleigh’s sweet spot, and Raleigh whined.

 

Then Herc slid out his fingers, and Raleigh let out a whimper of disappointment. Fuck, what the hell was going on? He was acting like some kind of animal in heat, opening up for Herc and crying out like that.

 

Raleigh felt something cold and slick press against his hole. Wasn’t Herc’s dick, he knew that much. With a little force from Herc the toy slipped in and Raleigh’s ass clung to it, the thinner girth before the flared base telling him it was a plug.

 

Couldn’t suppress a groan at that, either.

 

“‘fraid I do have to teach ya some manners,” Herc said.

 

“Huh?” Raleigh mumbled, and then a weird buzz shot through his body, starting from his insides.

 

He screamed.

 

The pain was instant, terrible and searing and he flailed in his restraints. “Aaah! Stop!” Raleigh shouted.

 

“Stop’s a word I don’t wanna hear,” Herc replied. Another shot of pain surged through Raleigh’s body and he wished he had the gag back in to bite down on.

 

“Oh god, oh god, please,” he whimpered. His muscles were spasming from the pain, and his gut felt really weird and uncomfortable.

 

“That’s better, but you’re missing something,” Herc growled. And the pain became even _worse_.

 

 

“No!” Raleigh shouted. “Please, just, no, please sto—” His words turned into a shriek of pure agony went another shock when through him. “Aaaahhhh!”

 

“Please who?” Herc said.

 

“Please… Herc?” Raleigh cried, sagging down, his legs no longer able to support him.

 

“Wrong,” Herc replied, and another shock wracked Raleigh’s body. Running through his muscles and bones, parts of his body in pain he didn’t know could hurt, and his insides were on fire. Raleigh sobbed.

 

“P-please, s-sir?” he whimpered, shaking and sobbing. Tried to think of Chuck. What would Chuck say? What did Chuck call him— _oh._ “Master!” Raleigh exclaimed, ridiculously happy that he’d found the right answer. Hoped it was.

 

“Mmmm,” Herc murmured, and Raleigh felt the weird current fade from his body. “Master. I like the sound of that, boy.”

 

Herc was behind him, reached between Raleigh’s buttocks, and shaped his fingers around the base of the plug. Pulled it out halfway, and then shoved it back in. Raleigh whined, no longer sure if it felt good or hurt, because his inner muscles were all strange and aching from the high voltage current that had been chased through them over and over.

 

“But I think you can do even better,” Herc said, his voice that same low rumble that had sent goosebumps over Raleigh’s skin the night before.

 

Herc’s hand sneaked around Raleigh’s side, to his front, where he wrapped it around Raleigh’s half-hard cock. Raleigh cursed inwardly as he already sensed himself responding to Herc’s almost gentle touch. Didn’t make any sense. How could he still be hard after all that pain?

 

“Now what does a slutty boy like you call his Master, hm?” Herc slid the plug out again, twisted it, shoved it up at just the right angle, and Raleigh shuddered as the head of the toy pushed against his prostate.

 

His lip trembled, because he’d worked it out, what Herc wanted Raleigh to call him. He swallowed hard, didn’t want to say it. This was so fucked up. He’d barely known his own father, hated him for walking out on his family, and considering the kind of father Herc had been up till now—

 

The plug dragged hard over his prostate and Raleigh yelped, the pleasure after so much pain almost too much.

 

“I know you’re thinking it,” Herc growled. “Now open that pretty little mouth of yours and say it, or I’ll turn the power back on.”

 

“No, please, not that,” Raleigh whimpered, embarrassed at how easily he was letting Herc manipulate him, push him this and that way. He felt like putty in the man’s hands and a deep, hidden part of him loved it.

 

“ _Say it,_ ” Herc ordered, his voice low and threatening.

 

Raleigh bit his lip. “Daddy,” he whispered.

 

Herc rumbled with approval, and continued to fuck Raleigh with the plug. “Louder.”

 

“Please, Daddy,” Raleigh gasped, grinding his ass back into the plug again.

 

“Tell me what you want me to do,” Herc whispered. His other hand began to stroke Raleigh’s cock, tight and fast, and Raleigh moaned.

 

“F… fuck me,” he gasped. “Please, please fuck me… Daddy.”

 

Herc laughed, and pulled out the plug, let his grip around Raleigh’s dick go.

 

And did nothing.

 

Raleigh whimpered after a few minutes, and there was no reply.

 

He heard the door slam shut behind him, and then the lock turning.

 

His ass was slippery and open, his cock hard and needy and he was left hanging, literally and figuratively. Left alone with the realization that he’d just begged Herc Hansen to fuck him. Called him Master and Daddy just to get it. As Raleigh’s excitement slowly abated the reality of his situation set in. He’d moaned and whined and danced to Herc’s tune, so easily and willingly, despite being kidnapped and strung up like this. He was a terrible person. He wasn’t worthy of Chuck at all.

 

He had to get out of here, or he’d lose it completely.

 

**Scene 39 - Chuck**

The Kaiju had Raleigh.

 

In a daze, Chuck followed Yancy, who led Chuck to his office in the mansion. Yancy shut the door behind them, and headed to the console on his desk, furiously typing away. Then tapped his headset.

 

“Mako. Call is encrypted. Transmitting my key.”

 

Several seconds later, the console lit up. “Yancy,” Mako’s voice came. “Is Chuck there with you?”

 

Yancy glanced at Chuck, and Chuck just blankly stared back. What was he going to do? If Raleigh was with the same crowd that took him in Seattle… with Hannibal, and… Chuck shuddered. Now that he remembered what those sick fucks had done to him, just the thought of Raleigh being subject to the same treatment made him feel ill.

 

The visual feed on the console activated, and Mako’s face appeared, still framed by dyed tips of her hair. Purple, this time.

 

“He’s here,” Yancy said, gesturing to Chuck.

 

“Good to see you again, Chuck,” Mako said.

 

“I-I guess,” Chuck managed. He stepped a bit closer to Yancy, definitely aware of the way his body reacted to Yancy’s nearness. But now really wasn’t the time.

 

Mako’s gaze met Yancy’s. “You have to come to the PPDC headquarters in New York so we can discuss this face to face,” she said.

 

Yancy’s expression darkened. “You’re back with them now?”

 

Mako shook her head. “It’s not like that.”

 

“It’s never like that, except it always is with the PPDC,” Yancy snapped at her. Chuck flinched at Yancy’s tone, remembering too well how it had been used against him in the past.

 

“Stacker Pentecost regrets the nature of our dealings with you in the past,” Mako went on. “For this, we make you a peace offering.”

 

Yancy narrowed his eyes. “What offering is that?”

 

The camera zoomed out, and Scott Hansen appeared. He was on his knees, hands cuffed behind him, blindfolded and gagged. A big hand was holding him by the neck, and Chuck recognized it was Aleksis who was holding Scott down.

 

“Yancy,” Chuck gasped, shaking his head. “No. No, no…” He stepped back from the screen. Panic welled up him and he had to get away, had to get out of here. Just the sight of Scott made him nauseous.

 

“ _Stay_ ,” Yancy’s command came, unexpected and so familiar that Chuck froze in his tracks and fell to his knees, looking up expectantly.

 

Yancy blinked and met Chuck’s gaze. He frowned and ran a hand over his face. “Dammit… I’m sorry, Chuck. Please, get up. If you want. I just… I’m trying not to,” he managed.

 

Chuck’s brow furrowed, not really understanding what Yancy was getting at. But they hadn’t talked about this yet. Who they were to each other, what they were doing. Chuck had just naturally followed Yancy’s lead. Carefully, he got up, but positioned himself behind Yancy, as if he was a shield between Chuck and the man on-screen.

 

Mako didn’t react to their little scuffle, and went on. “If you are willing to meet in New York, we will hand over Scott Hansen, and you can do with him as you see fit,” Mako said. At those words, she briefly glanced at Chuck before locking her gaze with Yancy again.

 

“What about Raleigh?” Yancy inquired sharply.

 

“I cannot discuss this on call,” Mako replied. “There is no encryption secure enough.”

 

Yancy sighed. “I’ll… consider your offer,” he eventually said.

 

Mako nodded and bowed slightly. “Very well. We await your reply.”

 

The console powered off with a soft buzz.

 

Chuck trembled. “Yancy, I don’t know what’s happening,” he mumbled. “I thought Mako was on our side. I don’t… I don’t want to see Scott. I want him gone. I don’t understand what’s going on between us! I just…”

 

He wrapped his arms around himself and took a few steps back until he slumped into a desk chair.

 

Yancy sighed and walked up to Chuck, caressed his cheek. Another gentle gesture from him that unsettled Chuck more than it comforted him.

 

Yancy took a deep breath, trailed a finger under Chuck’s chin and lifted it up to look at him. “Chuck, I’m… not your owner anymore. You don’t have to do what I say.”

 

Chuck touched Yancy’s wrist. “But I want to,” he said softly. His eyes took on a defiant glint. “And I know you want me to.”

 

The resulting twitch at the corners of Yancy’s mouth told Chuck everything. He’d spent way too much time trying to please Yancy not to know all of his little tell-tales.

 

Yancy slowly shook his head from side to side. “I wish we had more time to work this out,” he sighed. “But Rals…”

 

Chuck nodded. Closed his eyes and tried to shake it off, which didn’t work at all. “If the Kaiju have him,” Chuck stammered.

 

“We don’t know that,” Yancy said, bringing his hand back to his side.

 

“But Mako said—” Chuck started.

 

“If she’s with the PPDC, there’s no reason to trust her anymore,” Yancy shot back. “For all we know the PPDC has Rals, and this is some kind of trap.”

 

Chuck fell silent. He hadn’t thought of that possibility at all, had figured Mako was on his side, trying to help… especially after she’d risked so much for him.

 

“What do we do?” Chuck said after a while.

 

Yancy planted his hands on his hips.

 

“We find out the truth,” he replied. “And then we get Raleigh back. No matter what.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diving back in the history of other characters, jumping back and forth in time... Whilst Chuck was in training, Herc had to deal with his son's absence and his own part in it. Mako returns to the PPDC and faces the consequences. After facing Chuck at the mansion Yancy tries to find answers in his family's past. Finally, back in the present, Mako and Yancy meet up in Seattle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter 8! Or as I would call it: Rain, the Rarepair edition.
> 
> As you might have noticed this story is branching far, far out from its humble Chaleigh roots, and characters are forming all sorts of unexpected connections. Don't worry - I am actually going somewhere with this.
> 
>  
> 
> Last but not least, I have for you...
> 
> A TIMELINE!
> 
>   
> (Open in a new tab for bigger size)
> 
> From now on (and I will add them to ch4 and onwards) every chapter will have a 'what's happened up till now and when' timeline. Because when the author herself gets confused, your readers probably need one of these, too.
> 
> Read on, and as always, kudos awesome, comments even more awesome, concrit welcome!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Major Archive Warnings: discussion of childhood abuse and rape, serious dubcon**

 

 

 

_Three years earlier - December 2019._

 

**Scene 40 - Herc**

 

“Stacker. You gotta give me back my boy. I got the money together, I’m good for it. It’s Christmas in two weeks, yeah? Kid needs his family. Come on, Stacker. I know you ain’t a family man, but… “

 

…

 

“Stacks. Herc again. Haven’t heard from ya yet. Figure yer busy, but I gotta talk to you. I can pay you back, yeah? I can take care of Chuck now. We’re good. Get back to me, all right?”

 

…

 

“Stacker… fuck… I thought we were mates, you ‘n me… y’gotta… gimme Chuck back. Fuck are you even doin’ to m’boy? You touch him, I‘m gonna… get ‘m back, you hear me? … ‘s my son you got there. My son...”

 

…

 

_January 2020_

 

Herc was getting desperate. He’d lost his wife, and now his son was god-knows-where, in Stacker Pentecost’s crazy pet training business. Christmas had come and went, New Year’s, and he’d heard nothing. No reply from Stacker. Scott couldn’t get through either. Just thinking about what those sick bastards could be doing to his son… god fucking dammit. He’d sold everything to get the money together. Lucky Seven, every asset he had, every table and chair, down to the smallest coins he could find. All he had left by the end of it was this complete shithole apartment, and his gun.

 

Stacker wouldn’t answer, and he couldn’t get Chuck back, so now he was sitting on a useless pile of millions of dollars. Thinking real hard about what to do next. Spinning his Eagle round and round in his hands, taking it apart, cleaning it, putting it back together, over and over. Listing off all the people he wanted to put some bullets into.

 

And out of all the shitheads in the world who could possibly knock on his door, it was Hannibal fucking Chau.

 

“The fuck are you doing here,” Herc growled at the door, peering through the keyhole, knowing full well that Hannibal’s two man-apes could smash the door without even trying much. Still, he kept his piece close to his body. If he was going down, he was taking Hannibal with him. The ugly fucker had taken everything from Herc. Murdered his wife, set him up with the arms deal… fuck, the entire miserable shitpile that was Herc’s life right now could be traced back to Hannibal.

 

Knowing him, he probably came over for the sole purpose of gloating.

 

“Thought I’d come and see how an old friend was doing,” Hannibal bellowed.

 

Yep, figures.

 

Herc grimaced. “We ain’t friends. Fuck off.”

 

“Hey, have it your way. Just thought you might want to see the intel I got on your boy.”

 

Herc’s hands unlocked the door and had it fly open before he could get a rational thought in with his body. Hannibal was smirking in Herc’s face, his two goons towering behind him. Herc lifted his arm to point the gun at Hannibal, but a mere ‘tsk, tsk’ had him lowering it again. Fuck, Chuck was his weak spot, and the bastard knew it.

 

Herc pulled a hand over his face. “Fuck it,” he mumbled, and trotted back into the apartment, slumping onto the smelly, stained sofa. He had barely spent any money on personal luxury. Just in case he’d hear back from Stacker, or somebody else - anyone who was willing to take money for Chuck’s freedom.

 

Hannibal strutted inside, a mix of disgust and surprise on his face at the abominable conditions Herc was living in.

 

“How the mighty have fallen, huh?” he said with a big grin, his few golden teeth facings shimmering in the bleak light.

 

“Show me,” Herc said, glaring. No insult Hannibal was gonna hurl at him could possibly do more damage than he’d already done to Herc’s family.

 

“Now, now,” Hannibal started. “Goods like that don’t come free, Hercules.”

 

“Yeah? You might as well be full of shit,” Herc shot back. “I ain’t going to do shit unless you show me proof you got this intel on my son.”

 

“Heh. Fair enough,” Hannibal replied, uncharacteristically lenient. He reached into his coat, pulled out a single picture, and handed it over.

 

It was Chuck. Naked, on his knees, hands behind his back. And someone there with him, just outside the photo, whip in his—her?—hands. There were red welts on Chuck’s back.

 

Herc's throat went tight, pure rage flaring up from his chest into his veins, and his hands trembled. “Where,” he managed to growl.

 

“For me to know, and for you to earn,” Hannibal said smugly.

 

Herc closed his eyes. Memorized the positions of the goons and Hannibal, visualized the movements. Then rolled off the sofa, pulled his gun, and managed to get a shot off that grazed one of the goons’ heads before the other slammed into him, wrestling the gun from his grasp. “Fuck!” Herc grunted, and then the goon’s elbow smacked into his gut. Herc doubled over and groaned. “Fuck you,” he grumbled.

 

“Now play nice, Herc,” Hannibal laughed. “Just want you to do me a favor. Tiny one, really. Then I’ll give you the info you need.”

 

“Why the fuck would I work for you?” Herc spat, still struggling in the goon’s grasp, despite it obviously been futile. “You fucking _killed my wife._ ”

 

Hannibal shrugged. “Self-defense,” he said. “Your old lady was real nice and polite, until she wasn’t.” He pulled his butterfly knife out of his jacket sleeve and spun it around. “Was either gonna be my skull or her throat, y’see? And I quite like my skull. If you ask me, I was very gentleman-like about it. Sent her body back to you, and ya can’t really FedEx a corpse. Didn’t have to go through that trouble, but I did, see? ‘Cause you and me, we got a professional business kinda relationship.”

 

Herc narrowed his eyes. No fucking way Angela would be stupid enough to… but then again. “I got no reason to believe ya,” Herc hissed.

 

“No, you don’t,” Hannibal agreed.

 

Herc squeezed his eyes shut to think. Fuck, this was all such a fucking mess. But if Chuck was like that… if he had any chance of saving his boy, and possibly chasing a bullet through that sick fuck holding the whip… your enemy’s enemy, and all that.

 

“What’s the favor,” Herc eventually gritted out, forcing the words out of his throat. Feeling like he was betraying Angela, their marriage, everything they’d built up together, once. But she’d want her son to be okay, right? Herc held on to that thought.

 

Hannibal’s face broke into another smarmy, self-satisfactory smile. “Herc, my man, I knew you’d see it my way.”

 

“This is for my son, you ugly fuck,” Herc growled. “Spit it out.”

 

“You’re a real uncivilized Aussie bastard,” Hannibal said with a fair amount of amusement. “But you’re a rich bastard.”

 

Herc sighed. “You want the fucking money, it’s yours,” he said. “‘s what I owe ya and then some.”

 

“Much obliged,” Hannibal grinned.

 

“That it?” Herc said. He pushed his shoulder strength against the goon. “And can you get your ape off me?”

 

Hannibal snapped his fingers and gave the goon a nod, and Herc was promptly released. The tattooed guard took Herc’s gun along with him. The other one was still glaring at him, a steady stream of blood dripping from his head over his neck to his shoulders, slowly turning his white wife-beater shirt into a blood-crusted rag. He evidently didn’t give a fuck.

 

Herc sat back down on the sofa and rolled his shoulders back. That ape had a fucking death grip.

 

“Gonna need a bit more from you than cash,” Hannibal said. “I got a few people that… need to be taken care of.”

 

Herc raised his eyebrow. “You want me to kill ‘em?” he said, baffled. “I’m a casino manager, not a hitman.”

 

Hannibal’s laugh echoed through the room. “Hercules Hansen, you’re a fucking terrible casino boss,” he said. “And a lousy shot.” Hannibal nodded towards his goon to prove his point. “Nah, I got something else. Y’see, you got the same fancy gray matter in that ginger mug of yours that your brother does.”

 

Herc frowned, not really understanding what Hannibal was getting at. “So?” He vaguely recalled the guy Scott worked with—Becket something—had spoken to him about the same thing. “You want me to control a robot?”

 

“That brain you got isn’t just for controlling robots,” Hannibal explained. “It gives you a special talent for something. Talent that I want to put to good use.”

 

“Not making any fucking sense,” Herc muttered. Whatever Hannibal was getting at, it didn’t seem like a good idea to get mixed up in. Not that he had much of a choice, if he wanted to get Chuck back. He’d tried to talk to Stacker. Tried every contact he had, and nobody knew fucking anything. Except this gold-plated arsehole.

 

“You come with, and I can show ya,” Hannibal said.

 

Herc groaned. Considered his options.

 

“I’m gonna need more than one photo and your word, which ain’t worth much more than shit in my book,” Herc said, folding his arms across his chest.

 

“Figured,” Hannibal replied, and reached into his coat again. Pulled out a small datastick, and gave it to Herc. “You listen to this. Looking forward to our future cooperation, pal.”

 

And with that, Hannibal left.

 

Herc sat there for a few minutes, glancing at the photo of Chuck that still made his blood boil, tossing the stick from one hand to the other. Then, finally, got up and jammed it into his old rickety desk console.

 

An audio file began to play.

 

“ _You were a good boy today, pet. So I’m going to give you a reward.”_

 

The sound of… someone unzipping. Fuck.

 

“ _Sir?”_

 

That was Chuck’s voice. That was _Chuck_. Herc’s nails dug into the wood of the desk.

 

“ _Come closer, pet. Here. Put your hand around it. Yeah, just like that…”_

 

Herc’s jaw trembled.

  
“ _I want you to use your mouth, pet.”_

 

Herc jumped up and slammed his hands on the desk so hard there was a glitch in the audio playback.

 

Then, the softest whisper from Chuck. Herc turned up the volume.

 

“ _Yancy—”_

 

He knew that name. He fucking knew that fucking name. Becket. Yancy Becket. Scott’s Silicon Valley sugar daddy. Yancy fucking Becket was getting his hands on Herc’s boy. More than his hands, fucking… _fuck_ , that fucking bastard, that fucking pervert, he was going to fucking _die,_ he was so goddamn dead —

 

An hour later, after Herc had smashed just about every piece of furniture in his flat, he was on his way to Hannibal Chau.

 

Hannibal’s face was far from surprised when Herc arrived at his club, _Bone Slam_. Herc’s glare was so fierce than even Hannibal’s goons seemed unsettled, and given those guys had metal rings shot through the skin of their arms, it took a lot to upset ‘em.

 

Herc stomped into Hannibal’s office, which looked like it was inspired by every comic book villain’s hide-out ever: large, circular, covered in gold and marble, walls lined with as much shock value items as possible - grotesque statues, gruesome paintings, animal skulls molded and painted into gaudy decoration.

  
Hannibal greeted him with open arms.

 

“Just tell me what to do,” Herc said, nearly shouting. “Anything to tear that fucker apart.”

 

Hannibal grinned. “Words that are music to my ears. Come… let me introduce you. Newt! Get out here!”

 

A side door opened, a young, short guy walked. Arms covered in tattoos, black thick-rimmed  glasses, white shirt, black skinny tie. Something about him was profoundly out of place; he looked like a college student more than anything.

 

Newt stuck out his hand. “Dr. Newton Geiszler,” he introduced himself. “Everyone calls me Newt.”

 

Herc just kind of glared.

 

“Newt’ll explain it to you,” Hannibal said. “Now if you’ll excuse me… I’ve got to give someone a manicure.” He flipped his butterfly knife around, and Herc didn’t really want to know what Hannibal meant by that.

 

He followed Newt into the next room, which looked like some kind of laboratory. Herc eyed the guy’s tattoos. They looked like monsters, ferocious and out-worldly, and nothing like Herc had ever seen.

 

Newt caught his gaze. “You like ‘em?”

 

Ugh, small talk. Herc didn’t reply. It was taking all of his self control to not smash the guy into the wall. He had to play nice. For Chuck.

 

Newt closed the door behind them  and began to take off his clothes.

 

“Whoa, whaddaya think you’re doin’,” Herc stammered.

 

“Hannibal said you’re here to take care of me,” Newt replied, yanking off his shirt and undoing the belt on his slacks.

 

“I… what did he mean by that, exactly?” Herc said, and hoped it wasn’t what he currently thought it meant.

 

Newt stood in front of him, stark naked. His tattoos went all over his torso and legs. And… his goddamn dick.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Herc mumbled.

 

Newt planted his hands on his hips and jutted his crotch forward. “Nice, right? Hurt like a mother, but totally worth it. Look at that baby.” He curled a hand around his cock and began to pump it, getting harder on every stroke.

 

Herc stepped forward and shoved Newt into one of the stainless steel tables in the room. “Tell me, what the _fuck_ did Hannibal mean? Before I tear your tattooed little cock off,” Herc growled.

 

Newt grinned. “Oh, playing rough, Hanni told you I like that?”

 

Herc pulled a face of disgust and dropped the guy. “He wants me to fuck you? What, he can’t get his dick up himself?”

 

“He likes to watch,” Newt replied. He turned around, braced himself on the table and arched his ass back. “Don’t keep me waiting, big guy.”

 

“Fuck this shit,” Herc growled, and strutted out of the room.

 

“So you don’t want to see your son back, huh?” Newt called after him.

 

Herc spun around on his heels and before he knew it his hand was on the back of Newt’s head and he was smashing Newt’s head into the table, adrenaline pumping through his veins. “You’re a piece of shit,” Herc hissed, barely containing himself. “How _dare_ you.”

 

Newt’s nose was bleeding and he was coughing, but his attitude didn’t relent. “That’s the way it’s gonna be, dude!” Newt said.

 

Something just snapped in Herc, the haze of red clouding his vision, and to himself he seemed to disconnect from his body, the movement of his hands not his own. Almost in slow motion, he saw himself unzip his jeans, pull his dick out. Yanked Newt back by the hair and threw the guy on his knees, jammed a thumb in his mouth to push his jaw down. Newt cooperated, and wrapped his lips around Herc’s dick as he thrust into Newt’s throat.

 

Herc fucked into Newt's mouth until his cock was hard and aching enough, and then he jerked Newt up, turned him around and shoved a finger in his hole. Newt whimpered, hands scrabbling for the bottle of lube on the table, and managed to reach back and slick up his own ass just before Herc slammed in.

 

It was quick and rough, the table getting shoved forward as Herc fucked Newt against it, his conscious mind vanishing into sharp static as he pounded into the tattooed young man.

 

Herc pulled out at the last second, jacking himself off and spurting his come over Newt’s back in thick white arcs.

 

Newt slumped to the floor.

 

Herc’s hand ran into Newt’s hair and yanked him back. “You tell your boss to get me my fucking son,” Herc grunted, his hateful voice sounding alien to himself.

 

Newt whimpered. “Please, I haven’t come yet…”

 

Herc’s eyes widened and for a split second he wanted to slam Newt’s head into the floor again. No, better idea.

  
He scraped the tip of his boot over Newt’s weeping dick, and the guy groaned. “Do it yourself,” Herc said.

 

“Yes, sir,” Newt gasped.

 

Those words cut through Herc’s haze like a sharp, bright light, and he looked down at Newt. Nose bleeding, flushed, hand around his own dick and looking up at Herc expectantly.

 

“Fuck,” Herc stammered, “Fuck, this is all wrong, what the hell…”

 

He staggered back, shaking his head. “The fuck did I do,” he mumbled. He was disgusted with himself, horrible, almost… even though he’d been the aggressor. It wasn’t _right_ , it was… he shook his head trying to make sense of it.

 

Newt’s fist was a blur over his own dick and soon he came with a long whine, spilling all over his hand. Then grinned, and looked up at Herc as he licked the come off his fingers.

 

And just then, Hannibal walked in, prompting Newt to get up off the floor.

 

Herc had backed into a table, shaking, bracing his arms back against it to keep standing.

 

“How’d he do?” Hannibal said.

 

Newt adjusted his glasses. Which Herc had cracked, but Newt seemed not to give a shit. “Better than I thought,” he replied. “He’s a Brutal Master type. That’s fascinating. Rare.”

 

Hannibal nodded along. “So you want him, then?”

 

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Newt said. He walked up to Herc, who was still halfway in shock. That’s why he didn’t smack away Newt’s hand when it reached to his neck, and he felt a sharp sting, followed by a painful heat flooding his body.

 

“What the… fuck…” Herc mumbled, his vision swimming.

 

“Looks like you’re just what Newt needs,” Hannibal said, grinning.

 

“Chuck,” Herc whispered, sagging to his knees, clutching his neck. He felt really fucking weird. “I gotta get him out… “

  


_December 2020_

 

**Scene 41 - Mako**

 

She had expected to be refused at the door of the PPDC headquarters, but the guards stepped aside, and the doors slid open.

 

Nobody spoke to her.

 

She made her way to sensei’s room, all the way at the top of the East Tower, a pit in her stomach, knees trembling.

 

After she and Yancy had sought Chuck for over a month, and had found no clue of his whereabouts, Mako had proposed a different tactic. She would return to the PPDC, and gain back sensei’s trust. Then use the resources available to find and rescue Chuck.

 

And here she was, facing sensei on her own.

 

It made her guts twisted up, her skin chilled and feverish, her body aching in ways she hadn’t felt in years. After her training had been completed, sensei had never treated her that way anymore. But now… now he might actually punish her, and she longed for it.

 

If she was wholly true with herself, it was a part of the reason why she wished to return.

 

Her entire journey to sensei’s room, nobody looked at her, nobody spoke to her. It set her nerves alight, and she attempted to steel herself, even though at the same time she relished the anxious anticipation.

 

The lights in sensei’s room were dim, and she spotted him standing in front of the window, which took up the entire south wall, looking outside. His eyes caught hers in their reflections.

 

“<Miss Mori,>” sensei said, his voice low, authoritative, and brimming with fury underneath. “<I’m very disappointed in you.>”

 

Mako trembled, a tremor that started in her jaw and moved through her whole body, until her knees got weak and she sank to the floor, bowing her head as low as she could.

 

“<I am sorry, sensei,>” Mako whispered.

 

Sensei turned around and walked towards her. She dared not lift her head up.

 

“<You have betrayed me,>” sensei continued. “<You could have brought Chuck back, but you ran away with him. And now you come crawling back to me, begging for help.>”

 

“<Please, sensei. I’m so sorry,>” Mako replied in a shaky voice.

 

“<Sit up,>” sensei said. Mako obeyed, looking up at him with tears in her eyes and cheeks flushed.

 

Her expression seemed to catch sensei off-guard, and then something in his face softened.

 

“<You’re like this, then?>” he said. “<Is that why you disobeyed me?>”

 

Mako clenched her fists. No, it wasn’t. She had helped Chuck because it was the right thing to do. Because they had already hurt him so much, twisted him beyond belief, and there was nothing she could do to make it right again. Not just to get sensei riled up. She was not that childish anymore.

 

She took a deep breath, and met sensei’s gaze. “<It is not why I disobeyed. But it is why I came back, sensei,>” she said.

 

“<The boy,>” sensei pondered. “<You feel we have wronged him.>”

 

“<We have. We made him into a pet against his will,>” Mako replied. “<And then, Scott Hansen… sensei, I couldn’t simply stand by and do nothing. I am sorry.>”

 

“<And when you failed, you came back to be punished,>” sensei continued.

 

Mako nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. She craved it, needed it.

 

“<I… deserve it,>” Mako whispered. “<I disobeyed you. I escaped with Chuck. And then I let him escape… and now I cannot find him. I have done nothing right. I let you down. I let him down. I am worthless.>” She bowed her head again, deep, until her forehead touched her knees.

 

“<Will you feel better if I punish you?>” sensei asked.

 

Mako sat up and looked at him. Her lip trembled. “<Y-yes. Please. Please… Master,>” she gasped.

 

She had not called him that in many years.

 

She saw his gaze harden, as it always did. He was not a gentle or brutal Master. He was just. He did not need to coax or ply; did not need to push, slap or shove. He was a rock in the sea, whose mere presence made the waves part. He commanded obedience and brought forth respect. Mako had always craved to earn his praise, to meet his standards. It was all she had ever wanted, when she was younger. And now, she needed it, more than she ever had.

 

“<Undress,>” Master said.

 

Her body flushed with his response, welcomed it. Master’s commands were always very short and to the point. Failure to comply would result in harsher punishment. It was just. A good pet would understand even the simplest command.

 

Mako obeyed swiftly, taking off her heels, blouse, skirt, pantyhose and finally, her panties. She folded her clothes neatly and placed them next to her on the floor. Ready, she sat in front of Master with her eyes closed and hands folded in her lap, waiting for the next order.

 

“<On the cross,>” Master commanded.

 

She knew what he meant, and where it was. The X-shaped St. Andrew’s cross on the wall. She got up to her feet - Master would prefer swiftness to the humiliation of her crawling to it on hands and feet, she knew. At the cross, she placed her arms and legs against the limbs of the cross, and gasped when Master secured her ankles and wrists.

 

Mako closed her eyes, shivering in anticipation. She heard Master pull open a drawer, and then approach her.

 

“<You have disobeyed me,>” Master said.

 

“<Yes, Master,>” Mako answered.

 

No more explanation or pause was given. The large flogger hit her hard on her behind, and she gasped, warm pain spreading across her cheeks. It had been such a long time since she had been punished, Mako did not anticipate the ripple of pleasure that coursed through her right at the first hit. Master hit her again, and again, and again, covering every inch of her exposed body with lashes until her whole back was aglow.

 

She had tried not to gasp and moan, even though the blows had been exquisite, satiating something deep inside her she had no words for. She did not want it to stop, not yet, and she knew Master wouldn’t. However, this was as pleasant as her punishment would get. With every blow her body had been pushed forward from the force, and she was dripping wet already, the slippery, hot fluids sliding down her inner thighs.

 

Master would pay no attention to it, she knew. But she wondered what his thoughts of this were. There was a time where he would reward her for her perfect obedience and strength. Oh, how she wanted him to do so again. But today was not the time. Today, she was being punished, and deserved no rewards at all.

 

She was fully warmed up now, and the worse punishment would start.

 

Her suspicion was confirmed when she sensed the press of a cane to her thighs. She bit her lip. Master was being too nice to her, she thought; she liked canes, even though they could cause a lot of pain.

 

The thrum of the cane over her buttocks and upper thighs started slow, but quickly increased in strength and pace. The pain no longer pleasant, Mako began to gasp and biting back small cries, her nails digging into the leather of the cross. But this was still not the worst of it.

 

The tawse hit her hard and unexpected, with so much force her pelvis was pushed forward into the leather, and she let out a cry before she could stop herself.

 

She knew Master wouldn’t stop. Not yet. Not as long as she could think, not whilst she was still holding in her cries and trying to bear it.

 

Master hit her again with the tawse, and again, over and over, until the pain began to drown out her other sensations, and it became more and more difficult to hang on to her own thought process. When the large paddle hit her just so, low on her ass, she cried out loudly, echoing through the room.

 

That is when he grabbed the nine-tail whip.

 

There was no going back now, not that Mako would have wanted to, but she knew he would not stop until her surrender to pain was complete. She was terrified of it, and longed for it, and inside her whirled emotions she could barely describe.

 

The nine-tail was a special Japanese design, composed of nine single tails of thin twisted leather strands, its effects searing and intensely painful. It felt like being hit by fire. It was different from the usual cat-o-nine-tails whip, which had thicker strands.

 

The first lash had her screaming out loud. Master waited until her scream had died down, and then struck her again.

 

Mako lost herself, then; her screams became louder, and then softer, until they turned into sobs; first hesitant, then louder, then heart-wrenched, wracking her body. She was crying, as hard as she could, her body convulsing and tears streaming down her face. She hadn’t even noticed that Master had stopped hitting her, and was standing behind her, his hands reaching to undo the restraints on her ankles and wrists.

 

He caught her as she fell, whimpering in his arms like a baby, sobbing “<I’m sorry>” over and over until her vocal chords went raw.

 

She woke up in her own bed inside the PPDC headquarters to the nostalgic scent of the healing balm on her back, and tears welled up again in her eyes. It had been so long since that balm had been on her own skin. Master’s own touch was in it, no doubt; he would not let Tamsin take care of her. It was his way of letting her know she did well.

 

Her mind was empty. Where a storm of worry and anxiety had been, there was now a stillness. She had done wrong, she had suffered, and now she was forgiven.

 

On the pillow next to her, there was a small black vibrator egg. A gift she would be allowed to use. Chosen for her, by Master.

 

She placed her hand over it, and smiled, overwhelmed with gratitude.

 

 

_January 2022_

 

**Scene 42 - Yancy**

 

Duc Jessop led Yancy to his home, stomping the snow off his boots at the front porch. The Jessops lived in a red brick house, well-isolated and easy to keep warm during the long cold winters. The warmth greeted Yancy as he walked inside, and he immediately felt at ease. It might not be such a bad idea to stay at the house for a while.

 

After he’d taken off his boots and hung his coat on the rack, Yancy followed Duc into the living room. A tall, slender woman with long black hair was sitting on the sofa, and rose from her seat to greet him.

 

Yancy was flooded by a sense of déjà vu, her face immediately familiar to him, and he was certain he met her before. “I know you,” he blurted out.

 

The woman smiled. “Yes, you do,” she replied. “I am Kaori Jessop.” She walked up to Yancy and shook his hand.

 

“Gonna make dinner,” Duc announced, and then left the room, leaving Kaori and Yancy to talk.

 

Kaori sat back down, and gestured for Yancy to do the same.

 

He opened his mouth to ask the first of many questions he had, but Kaori put a finger to her own lips to shush him. “I will tell you everything, in time,” she said. “There is no need to rush. Here, have some tea.” She nudged an empty cup on the coffee table towards him.

 

“Thank you,” Yancy said. A cup of hot tea was pretty welcome after spending an afternoon in the cold and snow on the windy cemetery.

 

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea, and Yancy was still trying to think of what to say when Kaori began to talk.

 

“A long time ago, I helped your family,” she said. “Many things happened, then… and I did my best.”

 

She glanced up at Yancy, turning her teacup around in her hands. “But I was young, and arrogant, and overreached my abilities. And that’s why you are here now.”

 

Yancy frowned. So far, he had no idea what Kaori was trying to say. “What are your abilities?” he asked after a while.

 

“I am a hypnotherapist,” Kaori said. “Or perhaps… a little more than that,” she added with a sad smile.

 

“How did you help us?” Yancy inquired, putting his cup down on the coffee table and sitting forward on his knees.

 

“You do not remember much of your childhood,” Kaori said. “And what you do is very vague, only words, maybe.”

 

Yancy nodded. “Yes. How did you know?”

 

“Because that is what I did,” Kaori said, meeting Yancy’s eyes. “I buried those memories so deep inside your mind they would no longer hurt you. Or so I thought…”

 

Yancy shook his head. “What…?” he stammered. Something like that wasn’t possible, right? But the letter he’d read from Richard… and then the scraps of memory that had come back. About what his uncle may have done to him.

 

“Uncle Charlie,” Yancy mumbled.

 

“Yes,” Kaori simply said. She scooted closer to Yancy and placed a hand on his knee. Normally Yancy didn’t like strangers touching him out of nowhere, but Kaori’s touch was immediately comforting.

 

“He hurt you very badly,” Kaori went on. “Your parents… your mother tried everything she could to help you, but you weren’t getting better. They were starting to lose you. So Stephanie called me, hoping I could help.”

 

Yancy bit his lip. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear this. Remember any of this. Just brushing over these events in his mind was like he was scratching the surface of an overwhelming, sickening darkness, and he wanted to run away in the other direction.

 

But he needed to do this. Needed to get into that darkness, because… it was the only way he could stop himself from hurting Chuck.

 

Yancy swallowed, hard. Even just thinking about Chuck — the boy, his pet, _his_ — it caused a sharp pain in his chest, a tingling in his skin that wouldn’t go away. He still wanted Chuck, fiercely, with a hunger that cost him every ounce of willpower he had to keep under control.

 

But when he was near Chuck, all he did was hurt the boy. That’s all he had ever done. He hadn’t even understood it, not really — not until they had recounted the whole story to Raleigh, and he could _see_ what it did to Chuck, saw Raleigh’s reaction. And only then he had become aware, painfully, viscerally, of how horrible the things he had done to Chuck were, how sick he was. He’d tried to drown that awareness in drugs and alcohol and it hadn’t worked, had tried to bury it deep inside him. And then, he had been able not to think about it because Chuck was in need of rescue, Chuck was lost and needed to be saved, and…

 

That was when he’d understood that the person Chuck needed saving from the most was Yancy himself.

 

He was sick. There was this terrible thing inside his mind and it was poisoning every cell in his being, slowly, certainly. And he had twisted Chuck with it.

 

And Kaori knew. Kaori knew what it was. Because she put it there.

 

Yancy’s eyes flared up with anger and he clenched his fists. “You made me like this,” he said, voice strained from anger. “You messed me up.”

 

Kaori sighed. “We thought that if we took your memories away, it would be like it never happened. Like you were not hurt at all.” She sighed. “But that is not how the human soul works. If you hide away pain, it… becomes a festering wound. It does not heal. I know that now.”

 

She met Yancy’s fiery gaze. “I can apologize for my younger, brazen, stupid self, whose thoughtless actions have caused you and those around you much pain,” she went on. “It won’t fix anything, however.”

 

Yancy rose from his seat. “Then how do you want to fix this? Fix _me_?” he said, almost shouting.

 

“I can bring back your memories,” Kaori answered. “Slowly, so you can process them. And then you can heal.”

 

Yancy froze, anger melting away in the face of fear. Bringing those memories back, he’d… he would know what his uncle had done. It already made him sick from what little he knew.

 

Again, he thought of Chuck.

 

No matter how terrible Yancy might feel from getting those memories back, it still paled in comparison to what he’d done to Chuck. He had to do this. He couldn’t run away like a coward. He wasn’t going to. But Kaori messed with his head once, and she screwed it up.

 

“Why would I let you in my head again?” Yancy said. “How do I know you won’t make it worse?”

 

Kaori sighed. “You don’t. All I can do is ask for you to trust me. Although… there is something I could try. Show you, if you’ll let me.”

 

Yancy frowned. He had no reason to trust her, and all the reasons not to. But he was curious, desperate, even. If it helped, if it meant he could be around Chuck again, and show he was sorry, understood why he did what he did, and… maybe Chuck could forgive him, one day.

 

“What are you going to show me?” Yancy said, with due suspicion.

 

“Pick an innocent memory,” Kaori said. “Something that happened in recent years that is unimportant, but you can’t really recall anymore.”

 

It sounded harmless enough, the way she put it. Yancy went through his recent years - and then skipped right past his time with Chuck, because nothing about that was innocent or unimportant. Ah… the Breach Expo in 2018. He couldn’t remember much from it at all. It was the first time they’d shown the Jaeger prototype designs to the interested crowd, and he’d gotten so many impressions and ideas it blurred together by the end of the week.

 

“I’ve got it,” Yancy said. “It’s…”

 

“You don’t have to tell me what it is,” Kaori interrupted him. “Okay, now, sit down… this might be more difficult because you do not trust me, but I will do my best.”

 

Yancy followed Kaori’s directions as she guided him into a state of relaxation. She had him recall the memory and repeated several exercises that to Yancy seemed rather vague, but somehow, resulted in the memory becoming brighter, more crisp, until he saw it as if he was there in the moment. The names of the people he’d been introduced to came back to him, even what he’d had for lunch and dinner.

 

Yancy opened his eyes. “That’s… impressive,” he said. He glanced at Kaori. “But I don’t want my memories from back then… with my uncle, to come back that clearly,” he added.

 

“They won’t,” Kaori said. “I will make sure.”

 

Yancy pulled a hand over his face, and rested his mouth against his knuckles, thinking. Was this worth the risk? Maybe he could simply try to cope knowing what he knew now — that his uncle had abused him… and worse. And that it had broken something in him.

 

But even as he considered walking away the coiling darkness inside of him reached up, almost gleefully, as if it looked forward to devouring him whole.

 

Yancy sighed. “Okay,” he decided. “If there’s no other way. If you can help.”

 

“It won’t be easy,” Kaori said.

 

“I know that,” Yancy replied.

 

Kaori nodded. “Then we’ll get started tomorrow,” she said. “For now…”

 

“Dinner’s ready!” Duc called from the kitchen, the delicious smell of some kind of roast wafting into the living room.

 

“For now, let’s eat,” Kaori said with a smile.

  


_February 2020_

 

**Scene 43 - Herc**

 

Herc didn’t know much time had passed, drifting in and out of consciousness. Nightmares of being tied up, needles and tubes going into his body.

 

And when he fully came to, he saw that he had dreamt none of it.

 

He was strapped to a steel table, naked, an intravenous drip going into his right hand and an array of needles and tubes stuck into various parts of his body. And as much as he wanted to scream, he didn’t. This situation was severely fucked up, and shouting probably wouldn't help. Herc was surprised at his own level of calm, really. Mostly brought about by the fact that at the nearest opportunity he got he would climb out of here and stab the fuckers who put him there. Hannibal goddamn Chau and that tattooed freak of his.

 

“Heyyy, look who’s up!”

 

Speak of the devil, right?

 

Newt’s face hovered over his. Herc heard Newt hit some kind of switch, and then the bed he was lying on slowly moved halfway upright. Herc wasn’t just tied up; he was shackled pretty solidly to this table-bed-like construction.

 

Just what the fuck was going on?

 

“I bet you’re wondering what the fuck is going on,” Newt said.

 

“No shit,” Herc said, coughing. He had some weird, gross taste in his mouth. Like he brushed his teeth with something that should be used to scrub the floor instead. “What the hell are you doing to me?” He struggled against his restraints, knowing it was useless, but he wanted to make the point anyway.

 

“You, Hercules Hansen, are a special kind of man. Almost one of a kind, you might say,” Newt said.

 

“Great,” Herc mumbled. Newt must be keeping him on some kind of trippy drugs. He could swear he saw the guy’s tattoos move.

 

Newt picked up a small bottle filled with a blue liquid off the table, and waved it in Herc’s face. “This is the magic, dude. You got it in you. Pure awesome.”

 

Herc frowned. “I got blue shit in me? Pretty fuckin’  sure I bleed red.”

 

“Okay, maybe it’s better if I show you,” Newt said. He hit a few buttons, and the table Herc was strapped to slowly spun around until he was laying on his side. A second platform moved up to support him, and then cold air hit his back as two panels slid apart.

 

“The fuck are you doing!?” Herc hissed.

 

“Relax. This will only hurt a lot,” Newt said. Herc sensed Newt’s fingers press on the base of his spine. Herc tried to move, but three new restraints had closed around his abdomen and thighs, keeping him firmly locked in place.

 

“Stay still,” Newt told him. “Be glad I’m a nice guy, gonna give you a local anesthetic.” Newt’s words were immediately followed by a sensation of a needle sliding into Herc’s skin, _into his back_ , which was horrible and painful and nauseating, and Herc smashed his teeth together to not cry out.

 

“Oh, you don’t have to stay quiet,” Newt encouraged him. “Nobody but me can hear, anyway. And this is gonna hurt, so it’s fine!”

 

What the _fuck_ was wrong with this guy?

 

“W-what—” Herc stammered. He’d never been in a situation like this. Nothing he’d ever experienced prepared him for this level of freaky shit and he needed to get the _hell_ out.

 

A weird, numb feeling was spreading out from his lower back. The anesthetic, right? Herc shook his head, afraid of what came next. “You fucker, I’m gonna kill you as soon as I get out,” Herc mumbled. “Gonna get my boy and kill you all—”

 

“Big words for someone who can’t even handle a little lumbar puncture,” Newt mumbled. “C’mon, you’re a big boy!” Despite the anesthesia, Herc sensed the press of a thick needle on his lower back.

 

“No, no, fuck— goddammit, you—” Herc gritted out, and then the needle pressed inside.

 

Excruciating pain erupted along the length of his spine, and this time he screamed.

 

“Ahh, there we go,” Newt said. “Almost done!”

 

Newt pulled the needle out after what seemed like forever, and Herc screamed again. “I’m going - to- fucking… kill you,” he breathed.

 

The table turned back upright. Herc was shaking, cold sweat all over his body.

 

Newt waved a test tube with transparent fluid in front of him. “Now watch the magic happen,” Newt grinned. He took a clean syringe, and with flinching, jammed it into the crook of his elbow, drawing out his own blood.

 

Herc figured he must really be fucking out of it, because last time he checked, blood wasn’t purple.

 

Newt let a few drops of his own blood fall into the test tube with Herc’s spinal fluid and shook the tube to mix them together.

 

The resulting fluid was blue. Almost so bright it seemed luminescent.

 

Newt smiled and proudly held up the stuff to Herc. “Congratulations! We just made a small dose of Mutavore-Alpha. Isn’t it awesome? Just look at it! Wow.” He brought the tube close to his eyes.

 

And Herc swore he saw Newt’s eyes blink… _horizontally._

 

His tattoos were doing that thing again, too.

 

Newt tapped the IV drip on Herc’s right arm. “Kay, time to bring you under again, big guy,” Newt said. “Need to do some minor brain surgery.”

 

“You _what_?!” Herc cried out. “What the fuck are you doing to me? Let me out of here, god fucking dammit—”

 

“Don’t worry, we got state-of-the-art equipment here! No trepanning necessary!” Newt exclaimed proudly. Herc’s vision was swimming, his eyes rolling back into his skull, and the pull of unconsciousness tugged on his body.

 

“No, don’t do this, let me go—” Herc gasped as he went under.

  


Herc wasn’t sure what Newt was doing to his brain and his body, but full consciousness was rare to him or simply forgotten. He’d wake up and then go under again, possibly having entire conversations, possibly not. He could never quite remember, and after a while he no longer knew whether he was awake or dreaming. He had the strangest dreams; being strapped to a chair, eyelids forced open, a narrow beam of light projecting images straight onto his cornea. Images of pain and torture and sex; of Herc’s own hands inflicting pain upon others, forcing them down, commanding them to submit as his cock stretched them open. Was it real or not? He no longer knew. But his hands grew practiced, his body stronger, his voice firmer. Occasionally, he would see Newt, all tubes and needles and blue fluid, sensed the needles going into his spine. He tried to forget about it. Once, he saw Hannibal’s face, and a smug grin plastered on his ugly face, as usual.

 

Herc didn’t know how much time had passed when he woke up. Really, truly woke up, lying in what looked like a fancy hotel room. Alone. He climbed out of bed and wandered around for a good half an hour, stumbling, trying to get a sense of walking again, relishing the feel of just reaching out and touching, grabbing things on his own. His memory was one grey hazy mess, and he made it to the bathroom. Looked at himself in the mirror, and it wasn’t quite the face he remembered. Lines were drawn deeper around his eyes and on his forehead, he looked paler. But not thinner. Now that he took the time to notice, to really look, his entire body was bigger, his muscles hard and round the way they hadn’t been since he resigned from the RAAF. His hands ran down his abs, which were impressive, and his fingertips revealed minute scars, almost imperceptible with the naked eye.

 

A familiar urge presented itself  in his lower belly and he responded instinctively, walking to the toilet, flipping up the lid and taking a piss.

 

The relief washed over him so intensely it was like he hadn’t pissed in _months_. And something about the weight and feel of his dick was different. He looked down, and his eyebrows went up. His cock was… _huge_. He distinctly remembered it being at least an inch shorter, if not more, and not this thick in girth, either.

 

He’d beefed up in every way, apparently. Couldn’t remember why.

 

What was he doing here again?

 

There was a knock on his door, and Herc shook off and tucked himself back into his boxers.

 

“Herc, you up?” a familiar voice barked.

 

“Yeah, yeah, gimme a sec, you old dog,” Herc muttered, and got the door. Opening it revealed Hannibal Chau, who pushed Herc back and stepped inside.

 

“So, you ready or what, pal?” Hannibal said.

 

Herc grimaced. “Been one hell of a vacation,” he mumbled. “Can’t remember a fucking thing.”

 

“Must’ve had a good time,” Hannibal replied. He clapped a hand down on Herc’s shoulder. “Time to get back to work. Got a lot of clients who’ve been waiting to be taken apart by you.”

 

Herc grinned. “That so? Bet you’ve been charging them double just for taking up space on the waiting list.”

 

“You know it,” Hannibal said.

 

“And uh…” Herc faltered, shook his head. There was something he was supposed to ask. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t form the thought well enough to speak it. “... the boy?” he managed.

 

Hannibal frowned. “We’re working on it,” he said. “Takes time. I told you that. You gotta be patient, Hercules. Trust me. I’m gonna take care of it.”

 

“Right, yeah,” Herc said hesitantly. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking. Whatever.

 

“Come on, old friend, don’t worry about it,” Hannibal said. “Got you set up with a horny little brat this afternoon. Just your thing. Needs a daddy to pound his spanked ass hard.”

 

Herc grinned. “You got a hell of a way to motivate your staff, mate.”

 

“I’m all about job satisfaction, Herc, my man,” Hannibal laughed.

 

 

_April 2022_

 

**Scene 44 - Yancy**

 

The weather was improving as spring approached, and Yancy was sitting on the porch of the Jessop house. It was still chilly, but he liked the cold. Made him focus. Much better than the air conditioning at the office.

 

He had his father’s letter in his hands again. Duc had saved it from the snow in the cemetery and it was still largely readable. Yancy was glad he hadn’t torn it up.

 

He went over it, line by line, and only now he had the whole picture. Over the past few months he had carefully, bit by bit, managed to get back the memories from his childhood, and the natural gaps of youth had been filled in by Kaori.

 

_Yancy. …you’re in Sitka, aren’t you? … Tendo to send you there when the time was right. … no such thing’s a right time, but you’re probably old enough now._

 

After his parents had taken Kaori’s help and locked Yancy’s memories away by hypnosis, they’d anticipated him seeking out the Jessops someday. Wanted him to. That had come as a surprise to him; it meant that his parents hadn’t wanted to keep everything buried and secret, or figured that the truth would come out somehow. Maybe not his mother, but Richard had wanted Yancy to know.

 

… _I didn’t… abandon my sons for no good reason. … your mother died… had to go make things right... Had to go bury the past._

 

Richard never mentioned Jazmine in his letter, and Kaori had showed Yancy why. Through her own eyes, rather than Yancy’s memories.

 

When Richard discovered that his own brother had raped his son, many times, over the course of several years, he’d just about lost his mind. Everything he was had filled up with anger, hatred and a deep urge for vengeance. He didn’t care about the law, about legal justice. Richard wanted to murder his brother for what he had done to his son.

 

And that is how Dominique lost her husband. Yancy remembered his mother well, now; it was one of the memories he had urged Kaori to bring back brighter. Dominique had been a force of love, and warmth, and kindness and forgiveness. And whilst she had been able to keep Richard from committing fratricide, their marriage had come apart at the seams. Dominique could not bear Richard’s intense hatred, even if it was not targeted at her; and Richard began to resent Dominique for holding him back.

 

It was Tendo who had come between them. Already a close friend to Dominique, she found comfort in him, and more than that, when Richard was no longer capable of giving love in any way.

 

Richard hadn’t even cared that his wife was sleeping with her best friend, Kaori had shown Yancy. In a way, he even found solace in it, knowing that Dominique was cared for, that he no longer had that responsibility.

 

And despite their best efforts to avoid it, Dominique became pregnant.

 

The pregnancy was difficult, painful, and both Tendo and Richard had urged her to abort, to take out the fetus that was eating her life away. But Dominique would not have it. Even as she faded away, the baby continued to grow.

 

When Jazmine was born, it had taken all the energy Dominique had left to to push the baby out of her body. She wouldn’t have a c-section, screaming that she didn’t want anyone cutting into her stomach, that it would scare her daughter.

 

Jazmine cried her way into life as her mother cried her way into death. It broke Tendo’s heart, and Richard no longer had a reason not to seek out his brother and take revenge. He didn’t want to stay home and take care of his sons; for Richard, the only way to take care of Yancy and Raleigh was to erase the monster that had hurt them from the face of the earth.

 

_I took his life … Taking a life, … Puts a shadow on your soul. … you deserved a chance to grow up without that shadow... I hope you did, Yancy._

 

It was that phrase, that part of the letter that always brought fresh tears to Yancy’s eyes. Because his father had thought to do the right thing, thought he was doing right by his sons. But Yancy already had a darkness within him that nothing could make go away. Not even Kaori, with her powerful skills of the mind.

 

And now Yancy knew where that darkness came from.

 

It had happened slowly, insidiously; his uncle inviting him over to read comics and watch tv. Nothing his parents would suspect. Kaori had left out most of the details, and for that Yancy was thankful. He now remembered vividly how he protected Raleigh with his own body and soul, placing himself between Raleigh and his uncle, telling Raleigh it was okay, his big brother would make sure nothing happened to him. Remembered how he had taken his uncle’s threats and turned them into something he could reassure Raleigh with. And how more than anything, that had kept him from breaking. Knowing that with everything uncle Charlie was doing to him, he was protecting Raleigh. Every touch, push and shove went to this armor Yancy had created. Raleigh should never know. If uncle Charlie kept his hands off Raleigh, he could do anything to Yancy. That’s what he had sworn, as a little boy, facing up to this monster of a man, a sick demon with the face of a human.

 

… _know, Yancy, that you’re good. You’re brave. You protected your brother … You always have. You are a good kid. No matter what happens, you have to believe that._

 

Yancy wished they’d never made him forget that. Wished that he could have remembered how strong and brave he’d been, and he hurt like hell for this so young, so broken version of himself, who faced the worst terrors at night and suffered all of it, all to protect his baby brother. And he hurt for Chuck, who he had tried to twist into another version of himself, tearing into him and breaking him over and over again because it made Yancy hurt less, because it soothed wounds he didn’t even know he had, because it gave power to his terribly lonely, hurt, powerless younger self. He’d used Chuck. He had used Chuck to feel better and to feel worse, to hurt himself, to hurt uncle Charlie, to take out all the pain and recreate it. And he hadn’t known why.

 

And now that he did, he didn’t know how to make it right. What Yancy had gone through in his childhood wasn’t an excuse to hurt Chuck, no matter how easy it would be to believe that. It didn’t excuse him, it offered him no freedom from guilt. He hated himself. He had seen Chuck, this imprisoned, powerless kid, and he had abused Chuck just like his uncle had abused Yancy. He was no better. He was just as much a monster, sick and twisted, and if Chuck never saw him again it would still be too soon. All he could do was to stay away from the boy. Maybe he could stop everything. Sell his company, retire, find a house somewhere, live by himself. So he’d never be able to harm anyone ever again. It would still be a fate too kind, Yancy thought, his hands tightening on the paper of the letter, crumpling it. Maybe the only way he could make anything right was to leave this world for good.

 

But that would be a coward’s way out. To hide away and feel sorry, instead of doing anything to help, anything to make things right.

 

And there was one thing he could do. One person who had harmed Chuck as much as he had, who had condensed his brutality into one night instead of spreading it out over a whole year. Who would have never had the opportunity to harm Chuck if it hadn’t been for Yancy. If Yancy could do nothing else, this, he could do for Chuck. And unlike his father, Yancy didn’t have to worry that taking a human life would condemn him to darkness, because it was already too late.

 

He would seek out Scott Hansen and put a bullet through his goddamn brain.

 

 

_Present day - May 2022_

 

When the black Chrysler drove up to him in a small parking lot somewhere in south Seattle, Yancy was overcome with a nauseating familiarity. Waiting for that car to come pick him up in a similar obscure location in LA, off to drive him to the PPDC, to Chuck. He’d never looked forward to it. Even though way back then he wanted Chuck so badly it made his stomach churn, that knowledge alone made him sick, and the PPDC had been his enablers, encouraging him at every step further into sin.

 

But today, the car was going to bring him to Scott Hansen. And that was as satisfying as anything, even with the constant fear for Raleigh’s well-being in the back of his mind.

 

Chuck was still at the mansion in Anchorage. Yancy hadn’t allowed him to come; there was no way he was going to let Chuck anywhere near the PPDC. And Chuck had hardly argued, wanting to stay as far away from Scott as possible. That was fine. Yancy had a job to do here, and the less Chuck saw of it, the better.

 

He ran the risk of the PPDC capturing him, but he couldn’t care less what happened to himself. He had a way to get to Scott Hansen, and a possibility to free Raleigh. Even if it was a trap, it was worth the risk.

 

The car door opened, Yancy stepped inside, and greeted Mako.

 

It was all so hauntingly familiar.

 

“I am glad you decided to come,” Mako said.

 

“I’m sure you are,” Yancy replied with due sarcasm. He didn’t know why Mako was back with the PPDC, and he didn’t care. After everything they had been through to find Chuck again, she’d betrayed them.

 

Mako blinked slowly, and then knocked on the dark glass that separated them from the driver, speaking to him in Japanese.

 

Yancy frowned. “Care to translate?”

 

“Directions,” Mako said.

 

They sat in uncomfortable silence until Yancy noticed the car stopping, and Mako got out. He followed her into a run-down looking building, a little confused. Clearly the PPDC was suffering budget cuts, or this was their new way of doing undercover operations.

 

But Mako led him up the stairs, after noticing the elevator was broken. All 25 flights of them.

 

Completely out of breath with a mild dehydration headache and half an hour later, they made it to the rooftop.

 

“You mind telling me why the hell you dragged me all the way up here?” Yancy panted. The building was obviously abandoned, with graffiti littering the stairway along with dead rats and dust.

 

Mako looked out over the city, and then turned around. “I have to be sure nobody is listening in,” she said.

 

Yancy raised an eyebrow. “So you’re not back with them?”

 

“Yes and no,” Mako said. “I am undercover in some ways, still. Tamsin does not know.”

 

“But Pentecost does?” Yancy was surprised.

 

Mako nodded, closing the buttons on her short black trenchcoat. There was a lot of wind on the rooftop. “Sensei has a plan,” Mako said.

 

“And what’s that?” Yancy said, shrugging. He didn’t have a high opinion of Pentecost, nor his plans.

 

Mako glanced at Yancy, sized him up and down, trying to make up her mind, it seemed. She stepped forward until there was only a foot or two between them. Her dark eyes met his cold, blue ones.

 

“Remember our promise, Yancy?”

 

Yancy swallowed. “How could I forget?”

  


_January 2021_

 

“Have you been bullshitting me this whole time, Mako!?” Yancy shouted, slamming his hands down on the coffee table.

 

They were in a cheap apartment in Seattle, had spent the past three months trying to find Chuck. They’d combed through every neighborhood, asked anyone who could know anything, visited all the known streets and corners. There was no trace of Chuck. As if he didn’t want to be found, or as if someone didn’t want them to find Chuck. And Yancy was sick of it. Now Mako was giving him crap about going back to the PPDC.

 

“You can’t be serious,” he went on. “After everything they did?”

 

“It’s for Chuck,” Mako replied sternly. She was clenching her fists, eyes shooting fire at him. “You should think of him.”

 

Really not the best thing to say.

 

“He’s all I’ve been thinking about!” Yancy shouted angrily. “What do you think they’re gonna do, when you find him!?” He strode towards Mako, grabbed her by the shoulders. “We’re supposed to keep him away from them!”

 

“I know that!” Mako said, her voice straining to stay calm. “But I see no other way—”

 

Yancy tightened his grip. He was angry about this, but... there was something else.

 

Mako was blushing.

 

His gaze softened, even though his grip stayed firm. “I thought we didn’t have the reaction to each other,” Yancy hazarded. “This Drift compatibility you told me about.”

 

“We don’t,” Mako answered.

 

He brought a hand to her chin and turned her head up towards him. Searched her face. “That’s not what it is, then,” Yancy said. His eyes narrowed, thinking. “How long has it been, Mako?”

 

The blush on her cheeks deepened, but her voice was steady and confident. “Not since I left headquarters.”

 

“Ah,” Yancy said. This was… he hadn’t really considered. “How often, before that?”

 

“Two or three times a week,” Mako answered. “Not sensei, of course. But… the Wei boys. Or Sasha.”

 

Yancy nodded. They’d frequently heard each other jack off during the time they spent together. Neither of them was particularly prudish, given their history. But this wasn’t just about orgasms.

 

“You need it, then,” Yancy decided.

 

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” Mako said. “Because of Chuck—”

 

He’d been angry with her a few minutes ago. But now, Yancy recalled everything she had done for Chuck—faced Scott Hansen alone, escaped the PPDC despite her feelings for Pentecost, nursed Chuck back to health. And now, had stuck by Yancy, putting up with his self-destructive behavior after a bad day, hadn’t spoken to him about her desires in order to not make him feel worse.

 

And now, he could do something for her. Some way to repay her. Defying Pentecost — the man who had trained her into a pet. Yancy knew exactly what kind of courage that defiance required. And he wondered if maybe that was why she wanted to go back.

 

He could satisfy her urge and convince her to stay.

 

“Let me take care of you, Mako,” Yancy said.

 

His hand slid down her neck, and he tightened his grip slightly.

 

Mako nodded. “Please,” she gasped.

 

“What’s that?” Yancy replied, slipping into his role so easily it was as if he had never left it behind.

 

“Please… sir,” Mako said. Her eyes met Yancy’s, and he saw relief in hers. She must’ve had it much worse than he anticipated.

 

He didn’t have a lot of kit in the apartment — they simply hadn’t considered this situation. But he didn’t need much. He had a belt, his hands…

 

An hour later, Mako was bent over the dinner table, her ass and thighs littered with red welts and hand prints, and she was sobbing with release as his fingers writhed inside her and over her clit, whispering ‘thank you sir’ over and over as he brought her to orgasm again and again.

 

Yancy weaved a hand into her hair. “You look beautiful like this,” he said, and he meant it. He had been with only Chuck for so long, he’d forgotten what this was like. To do a session with someone who truly begged for it, who needed it. Even though Mako was also that way because of her training. She was… older. Could tell the difference. He hated that truth, but couldn’t deny it, either.

 

“More, please, sir,” Mako begged, looking back at him.

 

Yancy felt the ache in his own groin, wanted to, but wasn’t convinced it was a good idea. Mako saw his hesitation, bit her lip.

 

“How long has it been for you… sir?” she whispered.

 

A question so forward he immediately grazed his fingers down hard on her overstimulated clit, and Mako yelped.

 

But… he really couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a woman. And that incredibly soft, incredibly wet sensation… he was getting painfully hard just thinking about it.

 

Mako caught his feverish gaze, and risked punishment again. “Please… use me, sir,” she gasped.

 

There was plenty of need and urgency in her voice too, and Yancy understood that she had missed more than just the smack of the whip after leaving the PPDC.

 

He pushed his jeans down to his knees, hurried a condom on and buried himself inside her wet, welcoming cunt.

 

Mako screamed with pleasure, and Yancy groaned loudly, his hands gripping her hips. He wasn’t going to last long at all.

 

The PPDC tattoo in white ink danced between the dimples on her lower back as he slammed into her. And there was something about it—it sparked a thought, a feeling he couldn’t yet put into words. An idea. It was soon lost to the flares of heat and arousal in his veins. He placed his hands at the top of her back, dug his nails in, and pulled them down hard, leaving bright red welts in their wake.

 

Mako yelped and shuddered underneath. She clenched down around him, coming again, and the pulsing tension around his cock was too much to hold back any longer. His hips jerked forward, he thrusted deep inside and then held still as he came, groaning and gasping for air. It felt like every cell in his body tensed and throbbed in unison. It was so, so good, and filled a craving in him he hadn’t been aware of.

 

Mako left for the PPDC the next day.

 

He’d thought to convince her to stay after showing that he could tend to her needs. But all he had done was remind her of her bond with Pentecost, and she had become more determined than ever.

 

“You’re going back to them, but don’t _go back_ to them,” Yancy said, almost desperately. He was the one begging in the morning.

 

“I won’t,” Mako said, shaking her head in assurance.

 

“I don’t know that,” Yancy replied.

 

“Then I promise,” Mako said. She grabbed Yancy’s hand.  “I will find Chuck. I will free him again. And I will bring him back to you.”

 

Yancy shook his head. “Don’t bring him back to me, Mako,” he said. “Bring him to Raleigh. He will be safe there.”

 

“They might start targeting Raleigh,” Mako replied, frowning.

 

“Then I will do whatever it takes,” Yancy said, giving a pinch to Mako’s hand. “That is my promise. Whatever you ask. Whatever is necessary. For Raleigh, I’ll do it.”

  


_Present day - May 2022_

 

“Back then, you had an idea,” Mako said. Her hand grabbed Yancy’s again, as it had a long time ago. “About the PPDC, about all of us.”

 

“I’m still not sure what I meant,” Yancy confessed.

 

“I looked into it,” Mako continued. “And… I told sensei.”

 

Yancy’s eyes narrowed. “Mako, you can’t trust him.”

 

Mako smiled weakly. “But I can, Yancy,” she said. “You’ll see. We’re all connected. This Drift compatibility… you, I, Chuck.”

 

“Scott and Herc Hansen,” Yancy added. “And Raleigh.” Mako nodded along with him.

 

“And sensei,” Mako said. “It is in the Pentecost family, too.”

 

Again, Yancy had the sense that there was something he couldn’t grasp, something he was close to understanding, but just couldn’t.

 

“Whatever is necessary, you said,” Mako said. “You promised.”

 

“For Raleigh,” Yancy replied, and those words rang truer than ever, knowing what he did know about his childhood. He sighed. This took a leap of faith, and maybe… he promised, hadn’t he?

 

“For Raleigh, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck deals with the uncomfortable situation between him, Jazmine and Tendo. Yancy makes his way to the PPDC to face Pentecost, whilst Raleigh suffers imprisonment and torture in the form of solitary confinement. Finally, Yancy faces Scott Hansen, who attempts to dig out the worst from Yancy's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. I have kept you waiting for such a long time! This as well as the upcoming chapters are very essential and very hard to write. When I first wrote chapter 9 it was chaotic and rushed, and my awesome beta ([ishyko](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishyko/pseuds/Ishyko) <3) came back with some fierce concrit. I think I wrote like two or three times the final word count of this chapter to make it all work! And I'm still not sure it all does...
> 
> MAJOR ARCHIVE WARNINGS: rape threats, underage, graphic violence, childhood abuse.
> 
> I'm sorry that it is all still so fucked up. You have to believe me when I say I am really building up to something huge, something that will bring the characters together and ties up all the threads, but it takes time and effort and way more writing than I had anticipated!
> 
> Thank you for sticking with this fic and with the characters this whole time. It's you readers that make the writing worth it. <3

 

 

 

 

**Scene 47 - Chuck**

  


Chuck was sitting in Jazmine’s room, curled up a big comfortable chair he’d dragged in, a book in his hands. Raleigh had set him on the path of reading so-called ‘classics’, and given him a list of old 20th century literature. For someone who didn’t like to read himself, Raleigh had been pretty adamant about it. Maybe Raleigh thought Chuck had missed out on some highschool education, and well, he wasn’t wrong.

  


But it was only Chuck’s eyes that scanned the pages of _The Catcher in the Rye_. His mind didn’t pick up any of the words. It was full of Jazmine, and Raleigh, and Yancy, and everything that had happened, everything that was still happening. Now that some quiet had returned, Chuck was left alone with his thoughts, and there were too many of them. Dr. Lightcap had left for the JaegerTech office in Silicon Valley, though most of the Drift equipment was still set up in Jazmine’s room. Kaori and Stephanie were off to the city center today, catching up with each other, after Chuck had refused to have any more therapeutic talks with them. The Drift with Jazmine had made it no longer necessary. Not that he was totally okay now, but… talking to them just seemed useless at this point. He wanted to talk to Jazmine. She was the one who understood, who’d seen it all.

  


If she ever woke up, Chuck thought, clenching the book tighter. No, she _had_ to wake up. She’d told him it was okay.

  


He hadn’t parted from her side after Yancy left for LA. Tendo was giving him dirty looks now and then, still blaming Chuck for the unconscious condition Jazmine was in. But he begrudgingly allowed Chuck to stay around her, after Yancy’s and Kaori’s insistence. And that was only after the diagnostic equipment showed Jazmine’s heart rate and blood pressure went down as soon as Chuck was near, as soon as he spoke to her or held her hand.

  


Chuck put the book down. It was no use trying to read like this. He edged his chair closer to Jazmine and grabbed her hand.

  


“Hey, Jaz,” he mumbled. “You know, you gotta wake up. I can’t do this alone.” He sighed, slumping forward, his head resting on the side of Jaz’ bed. “You said it would be okay, but…” His hand tightened over hers, and then he caught himself, afraid to hurt her, and let go.

  


“I’m sorry,” Chuck whispered. “You weren’t supposed to see all that, and it was my burden, and now… “

  


He let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Nobody should see that,” he mumbled. “Maybe it would’ve been better if I hadn’t remembered.” He curled up further against Jazmine’s bed.

  


Chuck woke up an hour later, the crumpled sheets leaving red lines on his face, a dried line of drool on his cheek and his shoulders hurting from nodding off in such an uncomfortable position. Something had woken him up, and he drowsily lift his head to see Tendo standing in the doorway.

  


“Um, I fell asleep,” Chuck mumbled.

  


“You were dreaming,” Tendo said, stepping inside.

  


“I guess,” Chuck said, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  


“You were saying things,” Tendo went on.

  


“Like what?” Chuck sighed. He probably said a lot of things in his dreams. He observed Tendo, and the man looked kind of uneasy.

  


Tendo came to stand at the other side of Jazmine’s bed. “They did a lot of bad things to you in there?”

  


Chuck sighed again. “Yeah.” He looked at Jazmine. Didn’t want to say it out loud, that he poured all of it into Jaz’s mind, that he was afraid how despite her assurance it would be too much for her.

  


Tendo’s eyes took on a hard glint. “She’s only fifteen,” he said. His hand clenched the sheets, nails digging into the mattress. “She’s _innocent_. And you… you put all that filth in her head.” He looked at Chuck, a mix of anger and fear and maybe even hatred.

  


Chuck would deny it if he could. But he simply nodded. “Yeah.” He paused. “ _I_ was only seventeen, back then.” He jutted out his jaw, challenging Tendo. Maybe it was a damn bad idea to aggravate Jaz’ dad like this. But he was acting like Chuck was some sort of evil person who’d hurt Jaz and it wasn’t like that, it had been Jaz’ choice to take it all in, and if anyone had harmed her it was her family, who had been pouring all their pain into her mind and they didn’t even know it, and…

  


“I’m not the only one who’s hurt her,” Chuck said under his breath, before he could stop himself.

  


Tendo’s expression darkened further. “What do you mean?”

  


Chuck swallowed. He’d started it, so now he had to spit it all out. But how could he explain? He didn’t know half of it, what had happened in this family’s past, how Jaz ended up absorbing so much hurt it damaged her body. He wasn’t even sure Tendo would believe him if he tried to explain Jaz’ ability.

  


“Jaz is… she’s hurting,” Chuck said, trying to pick the words carefully and hoping he wouldn’t sound insane. “Something happened a long time ago… with her mother, and… she still feels it.” He glared at Tendo. “That’s why she’s so sick! I saw it, I felt it—”

  


Tendo’s gaze became even angrier. “You don’t know anything!” he hissed. “Jaz was fine before you—”

  


A loud series of beeps came from the monitors Jazmine was hooked up to, and both Chuck and Tendo shut up, looking at Jazmine with worried expressions. Her heart rate was up, Chuck could see.

  


As soon as Chuck and Tendo stopped arguing, the beeps vanished. Chuck sighed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “We shouldn’t…”

  


“I suppose,” Tendo said. He stroked Jazmine’s hair, and observed Chuck. “She can hear us?” Tendo said softly after a few minutes had passed by in awkward silence.

  


“Well, she doesn’t like us fighting,” Chuck said. He sighed and got up off the chair. Tendo probably wanted some alone time with Jaz.

  


But as Chuck got to the door, his hand tightened on the frame. He just… he couldn’t walk away like this. Jaz wasn’t fine before. She’d never been fine, not really. Jaz had taken so much of his pain and now Chuck wanted to do something for her. Maybe he could just…

  


“She thinks you blame her, you know,” Chuck said softly. He bit his lip. He could kind of sense, or remember, how Jazmine probably wouldn’t approve of him saying it. But someone needed to say it. Someone needed to stick up for her. It wasn’t fair to let her carry the burden all by herself no matter how much she thought she was supposed to.

  


“... blame her?” Tendo replied, a hint of surprise to his tone.

  


Chuck turned around. “For her mother’s death,” he said simply. “Jaz thought that… you keep her in this place, in her bed, like…”

  


The anger in Tendo’s face made way for sadness. His eyes met Chuck’s, and then he turned to look at Jazmine. He let out a deep sigh. Chuck wasn’t sure how to explain what Jazmine had shown him, had allowed him to feel. He cursed inwardly for opening his big mouth in the first place when he didn't even know what he was saying.

  


“I don’t blame her,” Tendo eventually said. He brushed his fingers through Jaz’ hair. “If anyone’s to blame… it’s me.” He slumped down on the chair behind him. “So many mistakes we made, thinking we were doing the best for the boys, and…” He glanced up at Chuck, shaking his head. “I just wanted to protect her. She was so weak already, so small and pale when she was born, like she was going to break in my arms… ” Tendo’s voice trembled.

  


Chuck started to feel uncomfortable. He hadn’t seen this side of Tendo at all and he felt like an intruder. Poking into all this family stuff he barely knew anything about. But he _had_ to tell Jaz’ father. And if Chuck was being honest with himself, it wasn’t just to help Jazmine. He didn’t want to be blamed for stuff he didn’t do.

  


“When we drifted,” Chuck began, walking back to Jaz’ bedside. “It was like… I was inside her head, and she was in mine. It was scary. And maybe she… saw things from me that were really bad,” he said carefully. In the back of his mind the memories started to wash up again like a tide, and he tried to keep them at bay, determined to finish his plea. “But I saw bad things too. Jaz, she… when people are in pain, she just soaks it all up, like a sponge. And, um…” Chuck hesitated, then steeled himself. “... so did her mom, I think. And it hurts her, all the time. And it’s not fair.”

  


Chuck was well aware of how big an accusation he’d just uttered, and how much Tendo could just throw him out of the mansion now that everyone who’d been protecting him was gone. So he stood there, jaw clenched, fists tight, hoping for the best rather than the worst.

  


Tendo looked at him for what seemed like forever, his gaze piercing Chuck, trying to come up with a reply or decide how fast to show Chuck the door or something.

  


Finally, Tendo let out a long sigh. “Why didn’t you tell us, Jazzy,” he said softly. “I’m your father. I’m not… I never wanted to hurt you. Never.”

  


After a long silence, he glanced at Chuck. “I suppose… Jaz… she has a good friend in you.”

  


Chuck heard the tone of apology in Tendo’s words. “Yeah.”

  


Tendo shook his head and turned towards Jazmine again. “You should stay here at least until Jazmine wakes up,” Tendo said after a while.

  


Chuck wasn’t sure how to reply to that. He still didn’t like feeling like an unwelcome guest. But it was better than Tendo throwing him out right now, wasn’t it?

  


“Thanks,” Chuck mumbled, before finally leaving Tendo and Jazmine alone together.

  


 

**Scene 48 - Yancy**

  


The car ride took longer than expected. “We’re not going to your central headquarters?” Yancy said.

  


Mako’s eyes flitted up to meet his. “No.”

  


He was getting increasingly unsettled by the situation he was in. All of it was too familiar, reminded him too much of the year he’d spent training Chuck, being driven back and forth across LA in a car just like this, Mako sitting across from him in awkward silence.

  


He was going to do whatever it took to rescue Raleigh, he knew. No matter what, he’d get his baby brother back. That was his job, as a big brother. Just like he’d done back then, back with his uncle.

  


Back then… there had been a similar situation, Yancy thought. Wasn’t there? Something was nudging at the back of his mind and before he could suppress it the memory surfaced up from the dark ocean of his subconscious. Twisted and sickening and —

  


“ _Rals? Rals, where are you?”_

 

_Where were mom and dad? Gone? He saw uncle Charlie’s car outside and he couldn’t find Rals, he couldn’t find him, he was running, to the room he knew where uncle Charlie would take him._

 

_He pushed the door open and uncle Charlie was there with Raleigh on the bed with his arms around Rals and—_

  


“ _There you are, big boy,” uncle said. “You kept me waiting.”_

  


_Yancy ran up to Raleigh and pulled him off the bed. Raleigh muttered “but uncle was going to show me something” and Yancy just pushed his younger brother out of the room, slamming the door behind him._

  


“ _You promised,” he said softly._

  


_Uncle’s hands on his shoulders, in his hair. “You were late,” uncle said. “You promised_ me.”

  


_Raleigh knocked on the door, whining._

  


“ _Go away, Rals! Go play with my computer!” he shouted. Rals always wanted to play with his big brother’s console. It was the one thing he knew —_

  


_Uncle’s hands moved up his shirt._

  


“ _Go away, Rals,” he whispered._

  


Yancy felt sick. He was pounding on the window of the car door before he even knew what was happening, and Mako signaled the driver, pulled over, just in time for Yancy to stumble out and throw up on the side of the road.

  


Mako was quickly beside him, holding a couple of napkins and a bottle of water. Yancy suppressed a second retch and took a big gulp, sloshing the water around in his mouth before spewing it out.

  


“Thanks,” he mumbled.

  


Mako looked at him, very worried.

  


Yancy had fucked up again and again. He’d sent Chuck to Raleigh and now Rals was godknowswhere and they were doing godknowswhat to him and Yancy was supposed to _protect_ him from that shit.

  


When he got back to his feet, Mako’s face was scrunched up in sympathy. She glanced back at the car, and then stepped closer to him, vomit-y breath be damned, apparently.

  


“I’m not supposed to tell you this yet,” Mako said. “Mas— sensei would not approve. But…” She shook her head. “We have found Raleigh already,” she continued. “We know where he is being held. And sensei has a plan to get him out, if you work with him.”

  


Yancy searched her face for signs of dishonesty, but found none. And then he realized—she’d almost called Pentecost _Master_.

  


Her return to the PPDC wasn’t that strange, then. He had underestimated the depth of her training, if she still considered Pentecost her Master.

  


Yancy tried to gather his strength, ignore the sick feeling in his stomach, tried to push away the memory that still made him feel like he was being torn inside-out.

  


“Yeah, I’ll work with him,” Yancy gritted out, coughing. Mako handed him another napkin, and he wiped his face. They got back in the car.

  


If the feeling he’d had in the car had been terribly  familiar, stepping into the PPDC building was even more nauseating. He remembered the countless times he’d walked inside their LA headquarters, ready to have his way with Chuck, this young powerless boy; how much he hated himself for it, how much he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

  


Mako took him to Pentecost’s office. Yancy remembered talking to the man twice before — once when he’d entered the PPDC’s service, and once when they had removed him from it. When he’d been shouting, pleading, throwing his credit cards at Pentecost, desperate to buy Chuck from them. But Pentecost hadn’t listened to his pleas, hadn’t accepted his money.

  


He wondered if today, Pentecost was going to tell him why.

  


The man was about as impressive as Yancy remembered, a strong, tall, imposing figure with broad shoulders and a booming voice. Yancy knew he came across dominant if he wanted to be, but he didn’t hold a candle to Pentecost. And from what Mako had told him, he wondered what Pentecost was truly capable of.

  


“Mr. Becket,” Pentecost said. He didn’t hold out a hand, or gesture in any way, his hands staying firmly behind his back. Mako bowed deeply to Pentecost, dipped her head slightly towards Yancy, and then moved to stand at Pentecost’s side, a few steps behind him.

  


“Stacker Pentecost,” Yancy said. And waited. Mako said Pentecost had a plan, and Yancy was going to follow Pentecost’s lead in the conversation. Or rather, Yancy was going to give Pentecost as little information as necessary. No matter how Mako felt about the man, even if Yancy had promised, he didn’t trust Pentecost for one second.

  


“Your brother has been taken captive by the Kaiju syndicate,” Pentecost said.

  


“And you are offering to help,” Yancy replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “Out of the goodness of your heart.” The sarcasm dripped off every word.

  


Pentecost glanced at Mako. “I am aware that you know of the nature of the PPDC,” he said. Mako flinched a little. Yancy assumed that she had suffered due punishment at the hands of Pentecost, though knowing what he did about them, he wondered how bad she truly felt about it. Before she left, it had been obvious how deep her feelings for Pentecost ran, and how much her session with Yancy had made her crave his touch.

  


“I am,” Yancy simply confirmed. Saying too much might put himself or Mako at risk. He didn’t know how much Pentecost thought he knew. Shit, this was getting complicated.

  


“Then you understand that your brother’s predicament offers us a unique opportunity,” Pentecost went on.

  


Rage flared up in Yancy’s chest, and he set his jaw. He knew Pentecost was a tough bastard — but the way he spoke about Raleigh, like he was just an object, a chess piece in Pentecost’s game.

  


“I understand I want to get my brother the hell out of there,” Yancy growled.

  


“Our mission objective is not to save your brother,” Pentecost continued. “We want to bring in Hercules Hansen.”

  


Yancy blinked. This was news to him. His eyes flicked to Mako; couldn’t she have told him beforehand? Now Pentecost was catching him off-guard.

  


Yancy had purposely kept out of touch with Hansen senior. Given what he knew about the man, Herc might kill Yancy for what he did to Herc’s son. But Herc was in the same place Raleigh was? Did they capture him as well? And for how long had he been there? Should he tell Chuck about this? Questions tumbled out of Yancy’s mind, throwing him off his game.

  


Noting Yancy’s obvious confusion, Pentecost went on. “Hercules Hansen has been missing since January 2020. We assumed him to be either killed or captured by Hannibal Chau’s cartel—”

  


“What?!” Yancy exclaimed, losing what was left of his composure. “And you knew this? Didn’t think to tell me, or Chuck, that his old man might be dead?!”

  


Yancy’s tirade raised little more than an eyebrow on Pentecost’s steeled face. “You and Chuck are on a need-to-know basis,” he said. Yancy caught Mako hanging her head a little. Pentecost probably didn’t take kindly to her spilling a lot of information to them.

  


“Then tell me what I _need to know_ ,” Yancy said. “Tell me how to get my brother out of there. That’s all I care about.”

  


An involuntary shudder went through him, the memory he’d experienced back in the car flaring up again. He steeled himself. He couldn’t show weakness to Pentecost.

  


Pentecost nodded, pulled a small remote control out of his pocket, and flicked on the large monitor display on the east wall of the room. The screen lit up with a video feed of Scott Hansen, blindfolded, gagged and tied to a chair.

  


Yancy had considerable trouble containing the pure hatred that burst to life at the sight of the younger Hansen brother. This was the man who had violently raped Chuck, and Yancy wanted to kill him.

  


Pentecost had been watching Yancy’s reaction to the appearance of Scott Hansen, and coughed. “We can use him,” Pentecost said. “In our interrogations, Scott Hansen has confessed to being a Kaiju agent.”

  


For being on a need-to-know basis, Yancy was getting a wealth of new information from Pentecost. “What do you mean,” he said, his voice cracking. Yancy caught Mako nodding. Pentecost wasn’t playing him. He was telling the truth.

  


“Scott Hansen was tasked with turning his nephew into a Kaiju slave,” Pentecost said matter-of-factly, and his calmness over the matter wasn’t making Yancy feel any better. He was upset and pissed off and it took every ounce of his self-control to not turn into a mess right in front of Pentecost.

  


“He… he set it all up? Is that what you’re saying?” Yancy hissed. “Getting me here, training Chuck? And… in the hotel?!” He clenched his fists by his side. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  


Behind Pentecost, Mako hung her head. It must’ve stunned her as well, to learn she got played by the Kaiju.

  


Then again - they must not have counted on Mako freeing Chuck the way she had. Even though they got their hands on him again later. What would they have done in Mako had not interfered? Would Scott have brought Chuck to the Kaiju on a platter, a broken mess of a person? Yancy felt sick just thinking about it. It was a miracle in itself that Chuck had survived what Scott and the Kaiju had done to him, that he was still able to walk and talk and be around people. And now Yancy knew it could’ve been even worse.

  


Pentecost shook his head. “I am not kidding. This is not a joke, Mr. Becket!” His eyes flared up with anger, a display of emotion Yancy had not expected. “The Kaiju took us for fools, and they were right! We played right into their hands!” He marched towards Yancy. “Do you understand the implications of this!?”

  


Yancy almost stepped back from Pentecost’s sudden aggression. His mind raced, but there were too many questions, not enough answers. Like he was missing a piece of the puzzle.

  


Mako stepped forward. “The Kaiju have always had a plan for Chuck,” she said. “Even before he came here.”

  


In Yancy’s mind, the whole picture came together, terrible and overwhelming.

  


“Chuck’s father,” Yancy gasped. “The casino.”

  


“Yes,” Mako confirmed. “Hannibal is a Kaiju agent who set Hercules Hansen up to fail.”

  


“It was Scott Hansen who convinced his brother to trade Chuck in at the PPDC,” Pentecost said. “He correctly predicted we would be interested in someone known to have a Drift neurological profile.”

  


“And Scott convinced me to come to you,” Yancy said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  


Pentecost’s rage was almost palpable. “Do you now see the scale on which they operate, Mr. Becket?! Do you understand the necessity of what we are doing here?”

  


But Yancy met Pentecost’s challenge with equal anger. “Don’t give me that bullshit! Everything you have done up ‘till now fit their plans perfectly! You have been working _with_ them, not against them!” Yancy was shouting now, his eyes burning. “You could have stopped at any time! Let Chuck go, let me go! Don’t pretend you are a hair better than those bastards!”

  


Pentecost’s passion faded as if he flipped a switch in his head and his expression turned to stone again. “Do you want to rescue your brother or not?”

  


“I told you before,” Yancy spat. “Just tell me what the hell you need me to do.”

  


Pentecost turned towards the display again, which still showed Scott Hansen, blinded, gagged and tied up.

  


“I need you to get me the information buried in Scott Hansen’s brain,” Pentecost said.

  


“You interrogated him already,” Yancy shot back.

  


“He has played himself off as a lower-level pawn,” Pentecost explained. “We suspect Scott Hansen has a much higher level of access. It would explain why he was able to stay a hidden agent as long as he did, without us finding out. He does not simply receive orders and follow. He must be capable of erasing every trace of himself from security systems, bank transactions, public transport, even border security. It is also possible Scott Hansen has been a sleeper agent for most of his life. We need to know more.”

  


“And you want me to do this?” Yancy said. “I’m not an interrogator.”

  


“Dr. Sevier tells me you have a gift,” Pentecost replied. “You will know how to bring Scott Hansen to the edge and break him, and get the information we want.”

  


“... Break him? Torture him, you mean?” Yancy said. And as soon as the idea was brought to him, he _wanted_ to. Wanted to tear that bastard apart, bring him to the worst edge of pain, so unbearable he would beg for it to end beyond his own sanity. And Yancy realized he _could_. He knew exactly how to do it. Where to push, where to pull. It would be a million times worse than what he had done to Chuck. It would be worse than what the Kaiju had done to Chuck. Yancy found himself standing face-to-face with the darkest, most brutal part of himself, and sensed its pull, the temptation, the power he would have. And Scott, unlike Chuck, wasn’t innocent. He deserved it for what he had done to his own family. Deserved to hurt as much as Chuck had, and more.

  


Yancy clenched his fists. He’d worked hard to get away from being that kind of person. He didn’t want to take so much pleasure in bringing pain to others. It was like the darkness before him would lead him down a path he could never get away from. It wasn’t right. Not even when he wanted to, not even if he could. Fuck, not even if Scott deserved it.

  


“If you don’t do this—” Pentecost started, and then Yancy found his fists grabbing Pentecost’s jacket.

  


“Don’t you _dare_ blackmail me again,” Yancy growled.

  


And then the room went upside down as Pentecost grabbed him and sent him flying with so much speed and strength Yancy didn’t quite realize what had happened until he crashed on the floor several yards away. Pentecost strode towards him in large, brisk steps.

  


“Don’t you _ever_ touch me again, Trainer!”

  


Yancy rolled his shoulder, mumbled something and got to his feet. He really should’ve known better than to mess with Pentecost.

  


Yancy glared at Pentecost. “I will do what I have to, to rescue Raleigh. But I will not be your torturer,” he snapped.

  


Pentecost frowned, and folded his arms behind his back again. “Very well,” he conceded. “We need the plans and access codes that Scott Hansen has to Hannibal Chau’s headquarters. Retrieve these from him using whatever means necessary, torture or otherwise, and I will make sure your brother makes it back alive and well.”

  


Yancy sighed. His instinct told him he wouldn’t be able to persuade Pentecost any further. “It’s a deal,” he said, sticking out his hand.

  
Pentecost’s expression turned to steel again, and he shook Yancy’s hand.

  


Mako stepped forward, bowing deeply to Pentecost again, and then nodding towards Yancy. “I will take you to him.”

  
  
  


**Scene 49 - Raleigh**

  


After Herc had left him hanging in every sense of the word, Raleigh was strung up in the dungeon until he went limp and cold and uncomfortable. Only when he started to feel faint and dizzy like he was about to pass out, two of Hannibal’s lackeys came in and untied him. Barely able to walk, Raleigh was taken to a small windowless room, thrown on the bed and the door locked behind him. Not given any clothes, he barely slept, naked and cold, tossing and turning in the bed that was just a bit too short and slim for his body, the room just a bit too damp and chilly to be comfortable.

  


Raleigh wasn’t sure when the next day really arrived, but his internal clock told him he’d slept at least a few hours and it might be morning. There was a knock on the door and two guards — possibly the same guys as before? — stepped inside.

  


“Get on your knees, hands behind your back,” the one on the left grunted at Raleigh.

  


Raleigh considered it for a few seconds, but something in his gut just didn’t want to obey. He rolled off the bed, made a move to sit down, and then jumped up at the guards from his lower position, ramming his shoulders into their sides. Hoping he had the element of surprise with him he bolted towards the door, the light and warmth of the corridor a beacon to his body and his mind full of potential freedom.

  


The two guys were on him in like five seconds, throwing him to the ground and getting him into a solid head and leg lock.

  


“So, you wanna escape, do ya,” the guard whose steel, tattooed arms were tight around Raleigh’s head said. Raleigh flailed his arms and legs and bucked up as much as he could, struggling against their grip.

  


“We got a wild one here,” the second guard said. “Thought Herc had beat that out of him.”

  


“Guess not,” the other one answered.

  


Raleigh still spasmed, refusing to give in, and then his head was released out of the guard’s arms, followed by a boot smashing his face into the floor.

  


“Think you need to calm down a bit,” the guard said, twisting his boot down, rubbing dirt into Raleigh’s cheek.

  


“What’s Hannibal’s orders?” the other guard inquired. The cold steel of handcuffs pressed around Raleigh's ankles, followed by the cuffs clicking into their lock.

  


“Solitary,” the first guard replied.

  


Raleigh didn’t know what exactly that meant for him. But it had to be better than being strung upon in ropes and halfway electrocuted.

  


It wasn’t. They dragged him all the way down the hall, his legs scraping over the floor, and threw him into an elevator. Cuffed his hands as well, and threw a bag over his head. They seemed to go several floors down by the speed and length of the drop, and then the guards dragged him along, not caring that Raleigh stumbled and fell, just kicking him to get up again.

  


Raleigh was starting to wonder if Herc knew about this treatment he was getting. Maybe protesting the guards had been a bad idea, after all.

  


When they forced him to his knees and took off the cuffs on his hands and removed the bag from his head, Raleigh saw he was in a padded room. One of the guards was holding a straightjacket, and Raleigh stiffened in shock. “No,” he mumbled. He didn’t like the idea of being restrained that way at all.

  
“No such thing as a choice for you, kid,” the guard behind him said. “Lift your arms.”

  


Raleigh shook his head. He wasn’t going to cooperate.

  


The guards shared a look, and one of them nodded to the other. “Whatever means necessary, Hannibal said,” the one in front of him holding the jacket said.

  


And then Raleigh felt the other guard’s hands on his ass. “You hear that, kid? You don’t cooperate, we have the big boss’ permission to fuck you into submission.” The guard pulled his cheeks apart. “And I dunno about Karloff over here, but I’ve been wanting to get inside that ass of yours since the day you arrived.”

  


The guard named Karloff laughed. “You’re such a fucking pervert, Kai.”

  


Raleigh shuddered, feeling dizzy and nauseous and terrified. “No, please,” he managed to say in a shaky voice. “I’ll, I’ll behave, ok?”

  


“You sure about that?” the guard called Kai replied. He grinded against Raleigh.

  


“No, no,” Raleigh pleaded. “Stop!”

  


“Arms up,” Karloff said.

  


Raleigh trembled, looked up at the jacket, and obeyed.

  


Kai let go of him, muttering. It seemed like Karloff had some seniority over the guy.

  


Karloff pulled the jacket down over Raleigh’s arms and swiftly tied the belts together, then kicked Raleigh down towards the floor.

  


“Enjoy the peace and quiet,” Kai grinned. Karloff didn’t say anything, and leaving the ankle cuffs on, both of them left the room. As soon as Raleigh heard them lock the door, the lights in the room went out, and he was left in total darkness.

  


There wasn’t any sound except his own breathing, the beating of his own heart. And as he sat there in darkness and quiet, it seemed like his breathing got louder and louder, his heart pounding in his ears. Even though he couldn’t see anything it was as if the room started spinning around him.

  


“Please let me out,” Raleigh whispered, and his voice sounded alien to himself.

  


But no-one came. Somehow, he already knew, didn’t expect anyone to come get him. Because this was some kind of messed up form of punishment.

  


The room was warmer than his cell, the padding oddly comfortable, and after a while Raleigh found himself dozing off, curled up into a ball on the floor.

  


He woke up some time later with a familiar ache in his bladder. And only then the desperate reality of his current situation sank in.

  


“I… I have to pee? Please?” he whimpered. He repeated it several times, waiting a few minutes in between. But nobody came for him.

  


Raleigh trembled. They were going to make him do something like that in here.

  


He got up, the cuffs jingling around his ankles, chafing the skin underneath. He found his way to one of the walls, leaned against it and shuffled to one side until he found a corner. He couldn’t even aim or set apart his legs the way he was restrained. So with a choked sob he relieved himself, leaning forward as much as possible, but soiling his legs anyway.

  


He tried to shake off as much as he could before moving back to the centre of the room. Now the stench of urine hung around him.

  


This was too much, too much, he thought. Had Chuck gone through something like this? Is that why he had forgotten? Raleigh hoped that if he got out, he could forget about it. They would come get him, right? Yancy would come for him. He was sure of it. No matter what trouble he got into, Yancy would always come to his rescue. Always. Even now.

  


Raleigh sagged down onto the floor, bit his lip, and tried very hard to swallow the tears that surged up in his chest and throat. He couldn’t, didn’t want to give in like that. Because that would mean having to feel all of that pain and terror that was whirling around in his gut, allowing it inside his mind. It meant all of this was real, and not some horrible nightmare. He couldn’t face that. He just couldn’t.

  


When he woke up again the temperature in the room had gone down and he was shivering. The stench had gotten worse, and he was thirsty and hungry. Raleigh wasn’t sure how long they’d kept him here. A day? A night? More? They hadn’t given him any water or food. He tried to remember how long the human body could survive without water but he didn’t really know. It couldn’t be long.

  


After more time passed, another urge presented itself, and this Raleigh wasn’t willing to give in to at all. He clenched tight as well as he could and hoped, prayed that he would be taken out of here before it got too bad.

  


He drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes convinced he was back in his bed at home and it was all a bad dream, before he became aware of the utter darkness, the silence, the padding underneath his body, and the stink in the room.

  


He was still trying not to cry.

  


The temperature in the room started to go up at some point, becoming comfortable again, and then rising more until he began to sweat. He squirmed in his bindings, which became increasingly unpleasant with the heat. His skin prickled and drops of sweat ran down his face, through his hair, down his back. He’d been in a sauna before and he was vaguely aware of how important it was to stay hydrated. And now he was losing what little water he had left, trying to resist licking his parched lips, trying to stay as still as possible to not lose more.

  


He wasn’t quite sure when he started to hallucinate, only that he did. He saw Yancy walking towards him, handing him a bottle of water, but when he drank it it began to taste like sawdust. He saw Chuck, being forced on his knees by Hannibal holding a whip. He saw Herc, whose face and skin began to twist and turn blue as he stepped closer to Raleigh.

  


His head hurt and he could barely feel his limbs anymore. His mouth was parched and his throat was like sandpaper. Raleigh wondered if he was going to die here. _I’m sorry, Chuck_ , he thought. _Sorry for letting you down, sorry for going to Paris. It was all a mistake._

  


Raleigh was only somewhat conscious when the door opened, a ray of light and a whiff of fresh air entering the room. He squinted, his eyes so used to the dark that the brightness hurt his retinas. Someone walked into the room, moved towards him.

  


“It’s going to be okay, boy,” Herc’s voice came. “Daddy’s here.”

  


Herc ‘s hands moved to undo the cuffs on Raleigh’s ankles, gently undid the straight jacket and pulled it off. Raleigh didn’t have the energy left to even keep his eyes open, let alone move. Herc’s hand held his head up, and the tip of a bottle was pushed between his lips.

  


“Drink up,” Herc said. “Slowly.” He poured a few sips of water into Raleigh’s mouth.

  


Raleigh gasped and coughed, wanting to drink more, but Herc didn’t give him much.

  


“Have to take it slow, boy,” Herc said.

  


A soft, nice warmth enveloped him and became aware Herc had draped a blanket around him. Then he was lifted off the floor and cradled in Herc’s arms.

  


“Try to hold on,” Herc’s said. “You’ll be okay now. Daddy will take care of you.”

  


Those words brought a strange warm feeling to Raleigh, even though he was still vaguely aware it wasn’t okay at all. But he wanted to be taken care of. Wanted water, and heat, and wanted to be clean and sleep. And it seemed like Herc could give it to him.

  


“What do you say to that, boy?” Herc asked him.

  


Raleigh bit his lip. Herc was waiting for some kind of reply.

  


“Thank you… daddy,” he whispered.

  


It wasn’t even a lie. He was grateful. Grateful that Herc was here, that he’d given Raleigh water and taken off his restraints and was taking him out of the horrible room. Raleigh curled up in Herc’s arms as well as he could.

  


Herc chuckled and stroked Raleigh’s hair. “Good boy.”

  


Herc did as he promised and took care of Raleigh for at least several days. Spoon-fed him, gave him water and nutritional shakes to get his strength up, washed him, took him to the bathroom, tucked him into bed. Made Raleigh call him daddy the whole time, thanking Herc at every turn.

  


And Raleigh liked it. Oddly, stupidly, in ways that made his stomach churn and his chest feel tight. Raleigh had had Tendo as a father figure for most of his life but it wasn’t like this, not the way Herc made him feel simultaneously comfortable and hot, ashamed and eager.  With a low current of desire every time Herc called him ‘boy’ and every time Raleigh whispered ‘daddy’ back.

  


It was entirely different from how Herc had treated him before. There was no pain now, there were no threats. And Raleigh was afraid he’d just remind Herc somehow if he asked Herc about it. And his current treatment was preferable to being choked and electrocuted.

  


After a few days Raleigh started getting his strength back, his body feeling more energetic rather than worn out, his digestive system back to normal.

  


Herc noticed, too.

  


Herc sat Raleigh down on his knees, and lifted his chin up.

  


“You feeling all better, baby boy?”

  


Raleigh nodded. “Yes, daddy.”

  


He’d gotten used to addressing Herc that way. And somewhere a part of him liked it. Liked being treated as if… as if he was Herc’s. And Raleigh figured he better behave, because he didn’t want to be put back in solitary confinement. He’d do anything to not be taken back there.

  


“Did daddy take good care of you?” Herc asked.

  


“Yes, thank you, daddy,” Raleigh replied. A flush rose to his cheeks. He could never quite stop himself from feeling embarrassed, saying stuff like that, even though he knew it was what Herc wanted to hear.

  


Herc smiled and leaned forward, placing a light kiss on Raleigh’s lips. Raleigh blushed some more. How come Herc had been so harsh and brutal with him before, and was so nice now? It didn’t make sense. And he really, really wanted to ask, only he was afraid to. Because Raleigh thought he would jinx it. Or maybe he was hallucinating this, too. He wasn’t sure anymore.

  


Herc unbuckled his belt and unzipped.

  


“Then I think you should take care of daddy for a change,” Herc said.

  


Raleigh licked his lips. He kind of… wanted to. Wanted to thank Herc. Wanted to taste him.

  


And he figured, that if he did this, maybe he could get Herc to listen. Maybe Herc would be relaxed and pliable, maybe Raleigh could talk about Chuck, could explain that Raleigh never harmed Chuck, had only helped Herc’s son, and that they could get out of here together…

  


Maybe he wouldn’t say all of that at once. But he had to give it a shot. Especially now that Herc was being so nice to him.

  


So Raleigh leaned forward, parted his lips, and stopped just before he took Herc’s cock into his mouth. He looked up. “May I suck you off, daddy?” Raleigh cursed the hot spark that shot down his spine. It wasn’t right to enjoy this. But… but he did.

  


Is this what Chuck had experienced when he was with Yancy?

  


This was bizarre - his brother with Chuck, and Raleigh with Chuck’s father. And he and Chuck… what a mess, Raleigh thought, before shoving that idea far far away in his mind and focusing on the task at hand. Herc’s dick, still only half-hard and throbbing less than an inch away from his lips.

  


Herc carded a hand through his hair. “Such a polite boy,” Herc murmured. “Yes, you may.”

  


With permission given, Raleigh sucked Herc into his mouth, wrapping his lips around the tip and lavishing his tongue against the slit. He hated how it made his own body tingle and throb all over, continuing to feel weird and guilty over how much he enjoyed the sensation of Herc’s pulsing cock between his lips, getting harder every second.

  


“Mmmmm, that’s it,” Herc gasped. “Good boy.”

  


Herc’s approval made him shiver, and Raleigh tried not to think about what that meant. This was good, he was safe, better than in the solitary room. Herc was taking care of him, and if he pleased Herc, the guards would stay away.

  


Yancy would come for him eventually, or he’d find a way out himself. Maybe he could even convince Herc to come with.

  


And really, it wasn’t so bad. He’d sucked cock before. Certainly from attractive strangers in a club or bar. How different was this, anyway? Herc’s dick was nice, clean, big, and the feel of it in his mouth didn’t make Raleigh gag or want to pull back. He could do this.

  


Raleigh tried to relax, his jaw and tongue going slack, and took Herc deeper down. He was rewarded by a low groan from Herc, Herc’s grip tightening in his hair.

  


“Oh, yeah, that’s a good boy…” Herc panted, his hips jerking up a little.

  


Raleigh wondered if he could manage more. It would make Herc feel favorable towards him, wouldn’t it?

  


Carefully, Raleigh slid a hand up Herc’s thigh, and when Herc didn’t stop him, he reached further up and inside Herc’s jeans and tentatively ran his fingers over Herc’s balls. Herc moaned, gripping Raleigh’s hair tighter.

  


“Fuck, kid… you’re real good,” Herc gritted out.

  


Raleigh gently rolled Herc’s balls around in his hand and then took a deep breath, in and out through his nose, relaxing even more before sinking his mouth down further over Herc’s cock.

  


The head of Herc’s dick brushed against the back of his throat, and Raleigh tried to swallow around it, allowing Herc deeper inside.

  


Herc keened and grunted, his hips bucking up. Raleigh would’ve smiled if he could. This was doing the trick. If he could drive Herc a bit more wild…

  


Raleigh pulled off, coughing as Herc’s cock slid out of his throat, and then looked up at Herc, managing a pleading gaze. “Please fuck my mouth, daddy,” Raleigh whimpered.

  


“Oh fuck, yeah, c’mere,” Herc growled, one hand gripping Raleigh’s hair even tighter, bringing up his other hand to cup Raleigh’s jaw. “You keep that mouth open for daddy.”

  


Raleigh obeyed, stretching his mouth as wide open as it would go. And Herc shoved in, as deep as he could, thrusting into Raleigh’s throat again. Raleigh had a lot more trouble swallowing this way, so he  and coughed around Herc’s cock, tears jumping into his eyes. But he let Herc do what he wanted, let Herc fuck into his face.

  


Herc’s curses turned into unintelligible moans and growls as he shoved up into Raleigh’s throat with hard, desperate jerks, and Raleigh just held still, pressing his tongue against the sensitive rim of Herc’s cockhead when it slid between his lips. Herc was thrusting up so hard he nearly pushed himself off the sofa.

  


Sensing Herc was close, Raleigh stuck out his tongue, showing his willingness to swallow. His eyes locked with Herc’s and then Herc grinned, wrapped a hand around his cock and gave himself the last few jerks he needed to take him over the edge. Herc came on Raleigh’s tongue with a long groan, thick, hot, milky-white globs of spunk rolling into Raleigh’s mouth.

  


Raleigh found himself relishing the taste and texture of Herc’s come, quickly followed by another bout of shame and guilt. He wasn’t supposed to like any of this, he was being held captive and Herc had caused him so much pain before and — but he _wanted_ it, and…

  


The tip of Herc’s boot pushed against Raleigh’s crotch and Raleigh whimpered from the relief the sudden friction gave him.

  


“Looks like my baby boy enjoyed that,” Herc grinned.

  


Raleigh bit his lip. Yeah, he did. Fucked up as it was.

  


And then, just then — he remembered what Yancy and Chuck had told him. About this drug that made Chuck like it.

  


Had they given him the same stuff?

  


Raleigh went over the last couple of days, or however long it was — a week? Maybe more? How he was responding to Herc, now, before, back then, even up in the ropes with the electric plug, and back in the club in Paris, how Herc’s touch had sent shivers straight to his dick, and… could that be it? Was that why he craved Herc despite every bit of logic and reason he had in his mind telling him he shouldn’t?

  


Oh, _hell_.

  


Herc’s thumb swiped over Raleigh’s lower lip.

  


“Tell me what you want, boy,” Herc said.

  


Raleigh’s face was hot and prickly and his heart was racing so hard Raleigh swore he could hear it thumping against his ribcage. This was it. He had to ask, or this would be over and Herc would shove him back into his cell or god knows what else.

  


“I want to tell you something… daddy,” Raleigh managed, cursing how shaky his voice came out.

  


Herc’s boot pushed down further and Raleigh suppressed a moan. That felt way too good. He had to stay focused.

  


Herc raised an eyebrow. Clearly that wasn’t the reply he’d expected.

  


“What’s that?” Herc inquired, his expression hardening, lips drawn in a thin line. Raleigh tried to swallow away the lump in his throat. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped.

  


Raleigh took a deep breath. This was his only chance at getting it out, at telling Herc what was going on. He thought about solitary. About how they might put him in there again if this backfired. He was terrified of it.

 

But he also thought about Chuck. How the light of the sunset had warmed up Chuck’s skin. How Raleigh had held Chuck through dozens of panic attacks, nightmares and crying jags. How hard Chuck had worked to get better, every single day. And how Raleigh had messed it all up, triggering Chuck’s anxiety, leaving for Paris, being captured by Hannibal, all of it. And this was his only shot at making it right.

  


“Chuck is safe at my house! I haven’t slept with him, I haven’t touched him, please, you have to believe me, he’s okay!” Raleigh blurted out. “I care about him, I love him, I — “

  


Herc’s hand wrapped around Raleigh’s neck with an iron grip. “You want to stop talking now, kid,” Herc growled.

  


Raleigh let Herc manhandle him, surrendering, letting his arms fall limp at his sides. “They rescued him from Hannibal,” Raleigh said, coughing. “Hannibal kept Chuck here, did awful things to him. He lied to you! Please, I’m telling you the truth!”

  


A shimmer of doubt flew across Herc’s face, and Raleigh knew he was getting somewhere.

  


“Why should I believe you, boy?!” Herc grunted, shaking Raleigh back and forth just by holding his neck. Raleigh gasped for air.

  


“Why would I lie,” Raleigh coughed. “I want to get out… and you could come with me. Herc. Daddy. Please. We can go see your son.”

  


The ‘daddy’ Raleigh had slipped in there seemed to help. Herc’s expression softened, and his grip on Raleigh went loose.

  


He’d been right about pleasing Herc. And he needed Herc to trust him. Needed to please Herc more.

  


So Raleigh climbed up on the sofa, laid down on his back, squirmed out of his boxers that Herc had allowed him to wear and splayed his legs open, offering himself. “Please, daddy,” Raleigh begged. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I need you.”

  


That wasn’t strictly a lie. He did need Herc to get out of here. And he craved Herc, still; stupidly, embarrassingly much. But that might be the drug, Raleigh knew. He could use that to his advantage, right? He could convince Herc. That’s what mattered.

  


Herc lowered himself over Raleigh. His eyes searched Raleigh’s. And Herc’s expression was strange, unreadable. Then frustration flickered across Herc’s face.

  


“... What did you say about my boy?” Herc hissed.

  


“Chuck is with my family,” Raleigh repeated carefully.

  


Herc’s hand went up to Raleigh’s throat, and tightened there. It really was Herc’s favorite move. Raleigh was pretty sure he was going to have a bruised neck today. “Chuck already has a family,” Herc snapped. “Me, his mum, his uncle. He doesn’t need yours.”

  


Raleigh blinked. He didn’t know much about the Hansen family situation, but he knew Chuck’s mom died when he was barely a teenager. What was Herc on about?

  


“Chuck’s mother died a long time ago…?” Raleigh dared. He didn’t know what Herc was going to do to him if he kept talking like this. But he had to try, for Chuck. It seemed like he had a shot before, but now Herc was acting really strange.

  


“No… that’s bullshit,” Herc mumbled. “M’boy… Angela… Scott… we gotta find him. We’ll get together. Be a family.”

  


Raleigh frowned. It was as if Herc got it all wrong. And he didn’t know. Like he’d been lied to. Raleigh wasn’t even going to breach the subject of Scott, and what Scott had done to Chuck. Raleigh had no idea what Herc would do if he heard that news, but it wouldn’t be good.

  


“Herc,” Raleigh started. “What… what have they told you? Do you even know what you’re doing here?”

  


Herc let go of Raleigh, and ran his hands into his own hair. “My boy,” he mumbled. “Gotta find ‘m… gotta find my son.”

  


Herc fell to his knees in front of Raleigh, and started coughing violently, clutching his throat. Blue liquid seeped out of his mouth. “Chuck,” he gasped, and his gaze flew to Raleigh. “Is… is Chuck safe?”

  


Raleigh blinked. “Y-yes?”

  


Herc smiled. “Good… that’s good,” he mumbled. And collapsed.

  


Raleigh had no idea what just happened. But he knew he was in Herc’s quarters, with Herc unconscious, and without being tied up. He could get out of there. Escape. He got to his feet, pulled his boxers back on, when an odd smell wafted into his nose. He coughed and then saw smoke starting to fill the room. He was getting light-headed. “No,” he gasped. “No, I have to get out—!”

  


The smoke became thicker, filled up his lungs, his head. Raleigh felt heavy, and heavier still, until he sank onto his knees and then the floor. When he was entirely unable to move, he saw the door in front of him open.

  


A short, stocky guy with thick-rimmed glasses and a lab coat walked up to him. “Well now, you broke Herc,” the guy said. “That’s not good. I gotta fix him up _again_. There’s only so many times you can scrub someone’s brain, you know.”

  


Two big guys appeared behind him; they looked familiar. The same guards from before? His memory of his time in solitary was hazy. They picked Herc up and dragged him off. Then the guy in the lab coat got closer to Raleigh.

  


“I’m Newt, by the way,” Newt introduced himself. He pressed a syringe to the inside of Raleigh’s elbow, and drew some blood. Then put a drop on his finger, and to Raleigh’s utter confusion, licked it up.

  


“Seems like you’re something special,” Newt said. “Mutavore-Beta immunity. That’s awesome, man! We’re gonna need you. Only have one of those, and she’s out of stock. But look at you! Muta-B has triggered the central nervous system response, dilated pupils, yes… I’ll have to check your prostate later… it should be swollen. But no emotional bond,” Newt rambled on, poking at Raleigh. “You were trying to manipulate him! Clever!”

  


Raleigh couldn’t reply at all, and not much of Newt’s rambling made sense to him. But it sounded like he was right about the drug they’d used. And apparently it wasn’t supposed to work this way or worked better or something.

  


“Okay, gonna get some samples out of you,” Newt continued. The two guards who’d dragged off Herc came back into the room, and picked up Raleigh. He wanted to shout or struggle, but he couldn’t move, could barely breathe. He didn’t know what Newt meant by samples. And he was terrified to find out.

  


 

**Scene 50 - Yancy**

  


They found Scott in the same room shown on video. It was considerably bigger than it appeared on camera. and Yancy was hardly surprised to see a table full of instruments of pain outside the camera’s field of vision. These weren’t as pleasant as the tools used to train pets.

  


They also found Tamsin inside the room, much to Yancy’s displeasure. He had not forgotten her part in twisting Chuck. But he ignored her. For now, all he was concerned about was Raleigh, and getting Raleigh the hell out of Hannibal Chau’s hands.

  


Tamsin seemed to pick up on that attitude, and didn’t make any small talk. She opened a metal case and took out a syringe filled with clear fluid. “Do you want me to wake him up now?”

  


“Yes,” Yancy replied.

  


Mako and Tamsin shared a look. “We will be outside and monitoring the session,” Tamsin said. “Don’t get any ideas. We need him alive.”

  


Yancy grimaced. And couldn’t help himself. “Why don’t you just use your date-rape drug on him?” he hissed. “Sure made Chuck cooperate, didn’t it?”

  


Tamsin turned around and got up in Yancy’s face. “Don’t be such a fucking hypocrite,” she said. She prodded at his chest with her index finger and trailed it down his chest, letting it rest just above his crotch. “You wanted the boy, and I made it easier for him. Tell yourself whatever the hell you want to get through the day, Yancy Becket. You are just as guilty as the rest of us.”

  


Yancy hated how right she was. He acted like he was so much better than them. But he was just as morally corrupt.

  


Tamsin nodded towards Scott. “And you want to tear him apart, don’t you? I can tell.” She leaned in to whisper in Yancy’s ear.

  


“This is what you’re best at, Yancy. This is what you’re meant to do. Stop pretending otherwise.”

  


She moved away and gave him a sharp, feral smile. Then, she took Scott’s elbow, pressed down two fingers at his pulse point, and emptied the syringe into his veins.

  


“Have fun,” Tamsin said, before turning around and leaving the room.

  


“She hasn’t gotten friendlier with age,” Yancy remarked to Mako.

  


“At least she no longer pretends to be nice,” Mako replied. That earned her a chuckle from Yancy.

  


Mako walked up to him and lightly touched his arm. “Are you sure you are okay with this?”

  


Yancy’s brow knotted together. “I said I would get Raleigh out no matter what. And I will.” He placed his hand over Mako’s. “Thanks for asking, though.” He gave her a weak smile.

  


Mako left the room as well, and then, Yancy was left alone with Scott.

  


Various grunts told Yancy Scott was coming to, and he took off the blindfold.

  


Scott’s eyes met Yancy’s, and Yancy could tell Scott was _smiling_ , despite the gag; the crow’s feet next to his eyes squeezing together, his eyes gleaming.

  


Yancy took off Scott’s gag, and Scott laughed. “They sent _you_? That’s fucking hilarious,” he said. Scott’s eyes met Yancy’s. “What did they ask you to do? Torture me?” He laughed again - the sound of it sick and twisted, even with Yancy’s hand squeezing his throat.

  


“Don’t you wanna talk about it, Yance? Don’t ya want me to tell you about Chuckie-boy, how sweetly he cried and screamed with my cock up his tight little —”

  


Yancy’s fist hit Scott’s face with enough force to knock him down, chair and all. It was immensely satisfying. Yancy felt a hot, red haze rush up through his veins, making him dizzy, leaving a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth. He wanted to hurt Scott. He wanted to hurt Scott _a lot_.

  


“Shut the _fuck_ up,” Yancy growled. His fists were aching to plant themselves in Scott’s face. To turn that smirk into a bloody unrecognizable mess, to smear the goddamn floor with his brains —

  


Yancy gasped, tried to force the blood-red haze away from his mind, tried to find his calm somewhere. This was not what he was here to do, this wasn’t going to help him get to Raleigh.

  


Scott just laughed some more. “You made him all ready for me,” he mumbled. “My baby nephew, _you_ did it, Yance, you turned him into a cockhungry whore—”

  


And Yancy’s boot flew into Scott’s stomach.

  


“SHUT UP!!” Yancy shouted. He grabbed Scott’s hair and rammed the gag back into his mouth. “Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit!"

  


Even gagged, Scott was still chuckling.

  


Yancy buried his head in his hands, mumbling. “Fuck, fuck…”

  


He waited until the static noise faded from his ears, until his thoughts were clearer, calmer.

  


He let his eyes wander over the table of torture implements. Oh, it would be nice to use some of these on Scott… to hear him scream, see him cry. Yancy’s hands practically tingled at the thought.

  


But he wasn’t a torturer, he’d told Pentecost. Told himself.

  


Behind him, he could hear Scott laugh into the gag.

  


Just what the hell was he doing here?

  


He was supposed to break Scott, but the only way Yancy knew how to break people was in pet training. And that’s not the kind of thing he wanted to do to Scott. That wasn’t the sort of thing he wanted to do to anyone, ever again.

  


Whatever means necessary, Pentecost had said.

  


Yancy’s nails dug into the wood grain of the table. There had to be a way out of this. Some way to get Pentecost what he wanted from Scott.

  


Yancy sighed. He could start with talking. It’d be better than beating the crap out of Scott, even the bastard would be spouting more terrible shit about Chuck. Yancy would have to keep himself under control. He could do this, he _had_ to. This was the only way he could get Raleigh back safe and sound.

  


He turned around, walked up to Scott and tore off the gag again.

  


“Let’s talk,” Yancy said. He undid his tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.

  


Scott grinned. “Oh, I could just talk all day ‘bout Chuckie-boy’s sweet arse, mate.”

  


Yancy gritted his teeth together and willed himself to stay calm. Even though his fists were itching to turn Scott’s face into a bloody mess. Don’t let him get to you, he told himself. That’s what he wants.

  


“Yeah?” Yancy said, trying to keep the pure bleeding rage out of this voice. “So tell me. Your own goddamn nephew, right? You sick fuck.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the table. That’s good, he thought. Get him talking, whatever. He likes talking about Chuck, I’ll let him.

  


“No punching me this time? ’m disappointed,” Scott muttered. He flashed a sharp grin at Yancy. “Maybe I should remind ya I wasn’t the first to get my cock inside the kid. That one’s all yours, Becket-boy.”

  


At that, Yancy clenched his fists and dug his fingernails deep into his palms. Scott was trying to get under his skin. Trying to piss him off enough he’d lash out. And fuck, Scott _was_ getting to him, every word a verbal punch to Yancy’s gut. Because he couldn’t deny it. Because that fucking bastard was _right_ , Yancy had been the first to use Chuck, dragged the kid into this fucked up world, practically gift-wrapped him for the Kaiju. And that Scott of all people was the one to point this out to Yancy pissed him off beyond belief.

  


“What are the access codes?” Yancy said, obviously changing the subject.

  


Scott laughed. “Real subtle,” he replied. “But I ain’t gonna tell ya.”

  


Yancy stepped closer to Scott. “Afraid your masters will get angry?”

  


“Ain’t nothing you can do to me that they won’t do a million times over a million times worse, mate,” Scott said. Yancy saw the undercurrent of fear in his eyes, and knew that Scott was telling at least some partial truth. The Kaiju really were that terrible.

  


Scott’s face twisted into a smirk again. “You really don’t get it, do ya? Pentecost and his little gang of whores.” He scoffed. “Insects on the bottom of our shoes. There’s nothing you can do.”

  


“You’re full of shit,” Yancy remarked, rolling his eyes.

  


“I see ya don’t believe me, so I’ll tell you a little secret,” Scott went on, his expression possibly even more wicked.

 

Yancy raised his eyebrows. This wasn’t quite how he’d foreseen Scott was gonna talk, but who was he to argue.

  


“Come closer,” Scott said in a low voice.

  


Yancy frowned. The hell was Scott’s game? But whatever info the asshole spewed was worth something to Pentecost, and if Scott had something to share, Yancy wanted to hear it. He got closer to Scott and leaned forward until they were only a few feet apart.

  


“Closer,” Scott urged Yancy on.

  


Yancy placed his hand firmly around Scott’s throat. “You try anything, you’ll regret it,” Yancy hissed. And got closer still, until his face was only a few inches away from Scott’s lips. He could feel Scott’s breath on his skin, and he shivered with disgust.

  


Scott parted his lips, his smile so predatory he seemed to have fangs in it.

  


“Romeo Blue,” Scott whispered.

  


Yancy froze. The ground beneath his feet fell away, the room he was in, Scott’s presence, all of it vanished into swirling darkness. He felt sick, absolutely sick, the rushing of blood sharp and loud in his ears. He couldn’t breathe, and grasped at his chest, dizzy.

  


“No,” Yancy whispered. He sank to his knees.

  


_Uncle Charlie sat him down on the bed and turned Yancy on his side, Yancy’s back facing the wall. Then his uncle crawled up behind him and flicked on the TV across the room. A cartoon movie came on. Always the same one. Romeo Blue, which used to be Yancy’s favorite. It wasn’t anymore. He couldn’t watch it without crying. But his uncle always put it on, and Yancy always stayed quiet, watching the colorful images dance on the screen whilst uncle Charlie—_

  


Yancy covered his mouth with his hands, nausea setting in. He was shivering from the sudden cold that shot into every cell in his body. "No. No, god, no," Yancy mumbled.

  


It was Scott’s sickening laughter that broke through his panic.

  


“Oh, little Yancy-boy,” Scott howled. “You have no idea.”

  


Yancy trembled and tried to get to his feet. If he was cold before, he was sweating now, dizzy and confused.

  


How did Scott know? _How?_

  


Yancy managed to stand up and met Scott’s eyes.

  


“How,” Yancy whispered.

  


Yancy was in a daze. He was… so angry. So goddamn angry. His gaze dropped to his arm and then to the table it was leaning on. Full of ways to hurt Scott. Yancy reached out and grabbed a knife. It was small but sharp, he could tell.

  


When he looked up at the chair, Scott was no longer in it.

  


“Uncle,” Yancy mumbled.

  


_Come sit on uncle Charlie’s lap, boy._

  


“No,” Yancy replied, shaking his head. “m not coming.”

  


_Should I ask Rals then?_

  


“Don’t hurt Rals!” Yancy exclaimed, waving back and forth on his feet, the knife still in his hands. And he began to take wobbling, slow steps towards his uncle. Climbed onto his lap as well as he could. And pressed the tip of the knife against his throat.

  


“Whoa, Becket-boy,” an entirely different voice than his uncle’s came. “Quit yer trip down memory lane, will ya?”

  


Yancy narrowed his eyes. Scott’s face swam back into his vision.

  


“What the fuck,” he mumbled, and got up, stumbling backwards.

  


“Aren’t you a fucking headcase,” Scott laughed. “Gonna be real fun, you locked in here with ten dozen ways to torture me.”

  


“‘m not going to—” Yancy mumbled before he caught himself.

  


“How else did ya expect this to go, kid?” Scott grunted. “Have at it. C’mon. I know ya wanna hurt me.”

  


“Fuck off,” Yancy said, his hand tightening around the grip of the knife.

  


He needed to fucking pull it together. But whenever he _blinked_ , images of his uncle danced in his vision, his memories taking a hold of his body, like his uncle’s hands were on him again, his uncle’s scent in his nose.

  


He thought he’d worked all this shit out with Kaori. But it was worse than ever before. The memories wracked through his mind, his body, and he couldn’t stop them.

  


His gaze flicked up at Scott again. Yancy tried to focus, stay in the present. And he was getting really sick of Scott’s mocking laughter.

  


“Go ahead,” Scott said. “Kill me. Get it over with. Like father, like son…”

  


“W-what?” Yancy stammered. Again, a slow spin set in, as if the room was moving counterclockwise around his head.

  


“We’re like brothers, you and I,” Scott went on. “Don’t ya see, Becket-boy?”

  


Yancy tried to squint the confusion away, like maybe if he focused his vision, everything else would start to make sense.

  


“Raleigh’s my brother,” Yancy mumbled, bracing himself against the table again. The knife slipped from his hand and clattered on the floor.

  


“Just like Herc’s my brother,” Scott said.

  


Yancy blinked. “Huh?”

  


Scott’s words slowly started to sink in.

  


“Uncle Charlie,” Yancy mumbled.

  


Brothers. Richard and Charlie, Herc and Scott, Raleigh and Yancy… past, and present.

  


Something else nagged at him, at the edge of his memory. Something Mako had said? Pentecost… he fit into this, but Yancy couldn’t remember how. Did Pentecost have a sibling?

  


“I don’t get it,” Yancy said, running his hands into his hair.

  


Scott laughed. “Too much for your tiny primate brain, Yance?”

  


“What are you trying to say?” Yancy spat.

  


“Just give in, Becket-boy,” Scott grinned. “You’re just like us. You want to hurt, tear apart, kill… it’s in your blood.”

  


“No,” Yancy breathed. “You’re wrong.” He was nothing like Scott. Nothing like uncle Charlie. Scott was wrong, he was talking bullshit, trying to fuck with Yancy’s head.

  


Scott’s voice went low and threatening. And the words fell out of his mouth like slick, slithering serpents, crawling their way into Yancy’s skin before he even processed the words.

  


“Maybe one day Rals will have a son, Yance. You’ll have a nephew of your own to relieve yourself with. Show him all the tricks uncle Charlie taught ya.”

  


A red haze clouded Yancy’s vision, and he scrambled for the knife, lunged towards Scott and screamed, sinking the blade deep inside Scott’s body.

  


It was only the shred of control he could hang onto that guided his hand towards Scott’s shoulder instead of his neck.

  


Scott groaned and then shouted through the pain. “That’s it, Yance! Give it to me, c’mon! Carve me open. Just let go, give in. It’s so, so good.”

  


Yancy recoiled in horror, Scott’s blood spraying all over the both of them as he pulled the knife out.

  


“I’m nothing like you!” Yancy shouted.

  


“You _are_!” Scott shouted back. “C’mon, don’t be so pathetic. Make me feel it, Yance!”

  


“You sick fucking bastard,” Yancy gritted out, breathing heavily. A thick stream of blood ran down Scott’s arm where Yancy had stabbed him.

  


Scott laughed. “Sick? _You_ had my underage nephew begging for your cock!”

  


“Shut the hell up!” Yancy clasped his hands over his ears.

  


“You made him want it, you made him like it,” Scott went on. “Oh, you trained him good!”

  


“SHUT UP!!” Yancy screamed.

  


The door opened, and Tamsin ran inside, followed by Pentecost and Mako. Their presence cut through Yancy’s panic, and he looked up at Pentecost, the room shifting back into focus.

  


Tamsin turned her attention to Scott, cutting away the sleeve of his shirt to examine the wound. Mako squatted down in front of Yancy whilst Pentecost looked on. She looked very worried, and lightly touched his knee. Something in her posture was deferring, almost submissive, but he probably was too messed up at the moment to read anyone's body language.

  


He blinked and shook his head. “Mako…”

  


Then Yancy’s eye fell on the gun Pentecost was carrying underneath his jacket, inside a holster around his shoulders that was barely discernible if you were standing at eye level. He could slide forward like this, set Pentecost off balance with a kick to the ankle, get to his feet, twist around to grab the gun just like that, and…

  


Yancy didn’t know whether he had imagined it first or done it right away. Maybe his body had just naturally followed.

  


The barrel of the gun was pressed firmly to Scott’s temple, the metal digging into Scott’s skin.

  


Yancy’s finger trembled against the trigger. “Give them the access codes,” Yancy grunted.

  


Scott burst into laughter again. “Oh, Becket-boy…” Scott’s gaze went behind Yancy, meeting Pentecost’s, perhaps. “Why don’t you tell ‘m, Stacker?”

  


“What is he talking about,” Yancy hissed. He didn’t move an inch, keeping the gun planted on Scott, his finger teasing the trigger.

  


“We already have all the information necessary to infiltrate Hannibal Chau’s complex and extract both Hercules Hansen and your brother,” Pentecost replied.

  


Yancy let out a bitter laugh, and sniffed. “Then what is all this shit about, huh?”

  


Pentecost stepped forward until he was next to Yancy. He made no move to disarm Yancy. “Scott Hansen is a very informed man, it seems,” Pentecost said. “He has knowledge about your family. About the connection between you and the Hansens. Killing him now may not be a wise decision.”

  


“I don’t give a fuck about what’s wise,” Yancy growled. He pushed the gun down further on Scott’s head. “This bastard deserves to die for what he did to Chuck.”

  


“Is that not Chuck’s decision?” Mako said behind him.

  


Yancy’s pressure on the trigger lessened, though not visibly. He scoffed. “I’m not gonna turn that kid into a murderer,” he mumbled. “I already made him suffer enough.” He narrowed his eyes. “That burden is mine.”

  


“You sound just like yer old man,” Scott said.

  


_Taking a life, no matter how just you think it is, it changes you. Puts a shadow on your soul._

  


Yancy blinked. “And how would _you_ know?”

  


Scott’s grin went wide, and his eyes flicked to Pentecost. “If I tell ya, you gotta promise me you’ll kill me, Stacker,” he said. “I ain’t going back there alive.”

  


“You are too useful to do away with,” Pentecost coolly replied. “We will not send you anywhere, dead nor alive.”

  


Scott glanced at Yancy. “Just one more condition,” he grinned.

  


“Spit it out,” Yancy hissed.

  


“You let me fuck Chuck one last ti—”

  


Yancy let out an unintelligible scream, and pulled the trigger.

  


The gun let out a hollow click.

  


Yancy dropped the gun. Empty. It was fucking _empty_.

  


He sank to his knees again. “Shit. Shit, what the fuck,” he mumbled.

  


Scott was about to open his mouth when Tamsin came up to him and jammed the gag back in. “Time to go to sleep,” she said, and pressed a needle to Scott’s elbow. She held a hand to Scott’s face, keeping the gag in place until his eyes rolled back into his skull and he slumped down in the chair.

  


Pentecost’s hand was firm on Yancy’s shoulder. “You aimed at the floor,” he said.

  


Did he? Yancy wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

  


“Even when presented with enough pressure and opportunity to kill Scott, you didn’t,” Pentecost continued.

  


“So… so what?” Yancy mumbled.

  


Mako came to stand next to him. “The gun has been made heavier,” she added. “In your hand, it would weigh the same as having a full clip.”

  


Yancy frowned. “This was… a test?” he ventured after about a minute of thought.

  


“You passed,” Pentecost confirmed.

  


Yancy scowled. “What do I get?”

  


“What we agreed upon,” Pentecost replied. “Our help in retrieving your brother.”

  


Yancy let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “I still don’t get it,” he mumbled. “How did Scott know about that cartoon?”

  


“What do you mean?” Mako inquired.

  


Yancy glanced at her. “Romeo Blue,” he said, cursing the nausea that welled up at the mere words. “It’s… it’s something very personal. From my childhood.”

  


Mako shared a look with Pentecost, and he gave her a slight nod.

  


“Yancy,” she started. “If Scott has information about your past, he learned it from his masters.”

  


“The Kaiju,” Yancy replied. “So… what does that mean?” He frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was all too much. He was out of his depth, and it occurred to him that he was as much a pawn to Pentecost as Raleigh was. And probably to the Kaiju as well. He wanted to resist. To fight back. But he didn’t know how, and he was tired. So tired. Being in this room with Scott had worn him out.

  


“It means there is a Kaiju agent in your life,” Mako went on. “And they were present when you were little. Close enough to know intimate details.” She glanced at Pentecost again, and he shook his head. “It is something we did not know,” she added.

  


Yancy froze. He didn’t doubt Tendo for even a second. His mind briefly went to Stephanie, but then —

  


“Kaori,” he said in little more than a whisper. “Kaori Jessop. It’s her.”

  


“Are you sure?” Pentecost said.

  


Yancy thought he was going to be sick. He had trusted her, let her inside his head, and —

  


“Jazmine. Chuck,” Yancy gasped. He scrambled to his feet. “She’s with them, right now!”

  


At that, Pentecost pulled a headset out of his jacket pocket, attached it to his ear and tapped it on. “LOCCENT PGP, Pentecost coyote-tango-six-two-beta-seven-seven-gamma!” he barked into the microphone. “Deploy Cherno Alpha team to Anchorage _immediately._ K-agent suspect at location, use any and all force necessary to secure _alive_.”

  


He turned towards Yancy. “Follow me, Trainer.”

  


And for once, Yancy didn’t argue.

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The PPDC rushes to apprehend the suspected Kaiju agent at the Becket mansion. Yancy and Chuck get to talk things through... kind of, and Jazmine goes off on an adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CRAP FINALLY. I had SUCH a hard time getting the action-packed mansion scene right!
> 
> As always, kudos and/or comment if you like it! Reader comments are what keep me going through this loooooonnnngggg complicated story! I never expected this to get so huge and it's like STILL NOT DONE
> 
> but I love you guys. <3

**Scene 51 - Jazmine**

 

Jazmine was thirsty and hungry, her feet hurt, her body hurt, everything hurt. She was used to that, though. Her arms hurt, trying to get her wheelchair forward through the endless desert.

 

She kept looking down at the brown-red sand, at the cracks in the ground. Above her, the storm of Chuck’s memories whirled, completely silent and yet terrifying. She did not dare look up.

 

Instead, she tried to focus on her own memories.

 

Like the first time she was allowed out of bed. Her childhood memories were a blur, like a big ocean, all melding together. That day, she remembered the face of her dad, of Yancy, and the doctor who had told her she was strong enough to get up now.

 

Jazmine wondered what age she’d been, then. How many candles? She always tried to remember how many candles there had been on the cake that year. It was difficult to keep track of time otherwise. Six? Yes, maybe it had been six.

 

Those were happy memories. Getting up out of bed in her wheelchair, getting stronger, going outside.

 

She remembered getting very sick. one day, after she’d been outside with Yancy. Dad had gotten really mad, and after that, she hadn’t been allowed to go outside that often anymore.

 

The desert was changing. Drops of rain fell on the scorched sand, and formed pools of moisture. And the water reflected the sky. Jazmine saw Chuck, his face bent out of shape by the reflection, but his face nonetheless. Twisted in pain, covered in tears, dirty. Flashes of his naked body. Many other faces she did not know, looking hungry, gleeful, mean, threatening. She tried to keep her gaze on the dry sand instead of the pools of water.

 

Another happy memory of Jazmine’s was when Lee had given her an online account for her thirteenth birthday. Dad had protested at first but Yancy was on board and they had convinced dad to allow it. She had to promise to not reveal her identity online and wasn’t allowed to spend any money, but it was okay. She made new friends, she began to write stories and listen to pop music. She couldn’t get out of her room much, but she had an online world she could go to.

 

Jazmine first thought it was a mirage when the trees appeared at the horizon, but as she continued to move forward they got closer and closer, until she found herself wandering into an oasis. There was a woman sitting at the edge of the small lake, and as Jazmine approached her, the woman stood up and turned around.

 

Jazmine knew her, despite never having met.

 

“Mother,” Jazmine whispered.

 

“ _Oui, mon pètit singe,_ ” her mother said. “ _J’ai attendu ici pour toi._ ”

 

Jazmine did not speak French. And yet, she understood. Of course she did, Jazmine thought. They had been connected so closely once, in the same body.

 

“ _Maman,”_ Jazmine repeated. “<Is that really you?>”

 

Mother smiled and shook her head. “<You remember me, from when we were together as one,>” Mother said. “<But I am just a memory.>”

 

Mother gestured with her hand for Jazmine to come along. “<I must show you something.”>

 

Jazmine hesitated, because what mother said bothered her. Everything in this place seemed to be made of memories.. “<Mother. Where am I?>”

 

Mother smiled. “<You are dreaming, little monkey.>”

 

Jazmine blinked. “<No, this is —>”

 

Jazmine looked at her hands, the familiar check she did when trying to separate dream from reality. Something she had learned out of a book about lucid dreaming, because she spent a lot of time in her room and in her bed, and some days she hadn’t really been sure which was which.

 

Her hands became sharper in her vision, more real, and her surroundings blurred. Yes, this _was_ a dream!

 

Immediately, everything around her snapped into focus as well, except for the vision of her mother. Jazmine now saw that her mother’s face was blurred, unclear; and that made sense, because she had no memory of it herself, only what she had seen in photos and videos.

 

And if mother was only a memory, then… what was she trying to say to herself?

 

“Show me, then,” Jazmine said, noticing her speech had gone back to a language she actually knew — not one she imagined she knew.

 

“Look into the lake,” the dream-version of her mother said.

 

Jazmine rolled closer to the water and peered into it. The lake’s water turned darker and darker the longer she gazed at it, and Jazmine was scared of it, felt her spine twinge at the sight. The lake became pitch black, and then the consistency of the water changed - heavier, thicker, until it looked like oil. And it looked terrifying. Jazmine pulled at her wheels with her arms, trying to get away from it, but they wouldn’t move. She tried to get up out of her chair, like maybe she could run away, but her legs buckled under her and she fell forward. Jazmine screamed.

 

It’s dream, she told herself, it’s just a dream.

 

But it felt so, so real, and the darkness in front of her looked so frightening. “Mother,” she gasped, desperately.

 

“Swim, little monkey,” her mother replied.

 

“No,” Jazmine said, struggling to drag her body away from the lake’s edge. “I can’t swim.”

 

“You have to see what is at the bottom,” mother said.

 

Jazmine shook her head. “I don’t want to, mother,” she sobbed.

 

“But you must,” mother replied.

 

And then the lake surged up, grabbed at Jazmine’s ankles, and pulled her under.

 

Jazmine wanted to scream as soon as the thick oil-like darkness surrounded her, but she held her breath, scared to drown. Her chest felt tight, her body twitched as it needed air, and there was a mounting pressure in her chest. She needed to open her mouth, needed to breathe. Jazmine flailed and spasmed, trying to go up, but she didn’t know how to swim or how to float. And so she was pulled downwards, into suffocating darkness, gritting her teeth to keep herself from gasping until she couldn’t anymore, until she _had_ to take a breath, and then the thick blackness around her flowed inside.

 

First, there was nothing. And Jazmine thought she’d died. Even if it was a dream, maybe this was her subconscious’ way of telling her she really was dying. Maybe dad and Chuck and the others were in her room right now, calling an ambulance. Maybe.

 

But she sank further and further, and as she thought about that, she realized it must mean she wasn’t dead. Not yet. And as soon as that occurred to her, her surroundings changed. She saw it, then.

 

It was her brother, Yancy. Only much younger. Floating in the black, curled up into a ball.

 

For a long time, Jazmine knew that some sort of current of pain flowed from Yancy to her. Once, she had tried to block it and succeeded. Yancy had become sick, very sick. And so she stopped blocking it. It didn’t seem fair. But Jazmine was convinced it was what she was supposed to do. She couldn’t do much else but just lay there, and help her family.

 

To everyone around her, she smiled, she laughed. She didn’t want them to worry. Didn’t want them to know. This was her purpose, it’s the only thing she was good at. So they all thought she was a cheerful young girl. Only Chuck had… he’d known, even before the Drift.

 

The darkness around herself faded, and she felt the warm sand of the desert beneath her feet. Only the black stream going from Yancy to her stayed. And there was more. Her eyes followed another current, and saw her dad at the end of it. The stream wasn’t as thick and dark, but still there. Like stars that lit up the longer you looked at the night sky, more streams appeared, like tree branches, all going back to her. Raleigh, several members of the mansion’s staff, and also people she did not know — a man who looked a lot like Raleigh, only much older. Was it Yancy and Raleigh’s father? There weren’t a lot of pictures of him. Another man who looked more like Yancy, but whose eyes were dark. The people who’d been in the room when she and Chuck drifted. Stephanie, and Kaori. And then… Chuck. His branch toward her was not just dark, but had bursts of light and fire in it, like lava. Jazmine felt them, trying to burn and tear into her. People Chuck knew, then; a tall, angry-looking man with ginger hair. Chuck’s father? A petite girl with slanted eyes and hair dyed red and blue. A tall, dark man with a deep frown, a small woman with blonde hair and a tall man with a dark beard and blonde hair, three men who looked the same, and more and more people showed up, so many with hurt and pain and sadness and anger —

 

The more she saw, the more the tree dug itself into her body, into her back, the roots pulling down her legs, the trunk ripping into her spine. Holding her down, continuing to pour all their pain into her.

 

Jazmine had thought it was just Yancy and Raleigh and her dad. Her family. She could take care of them. That was her duty. Even Chuck. Chuck was family to her, now. Her best friend. She could take care of her friends.

 

But so many… all these people she didn’t even know. How could she possibly handle all of them?

 

“It’s not fair, is it?” a voice came, almost a beacon of light in the mounting confusion of Jazmine’s subconscious.

 

And Kaori appeared, in a long, flowing, purple-and-red kimono, her long black hair intricately woven and pinned up above her neck. She walked across the desert sand towards her, kneeling down at Jazmine’s entangled, pained body. Kaori brushed her fingers over Jazmine’s cheek.

 

“It’s not fair to make you absorb it all,” Kaori reiterated.

 

Jazmine shook her head. “No, it’s not,” she agreed in a shaky voice.

 

“I can make it stop,” Kaori said.

 

Jazmine bit her lip. “But then Yancy will hurt. And Chuck.”

 

“Yancy can take care of himself,” Kaori replied. “Is he not your big brother? He should protect you. Not the other way around. And Chuck… Chuck is a lot tougher than he knows. We can help him, take care of him, without hurting you.”

 

What Kaori said made sense. Yancy was strong and tall and could travel the world. Chuck had professional help. Jazmine was just a broken girl who could barely walk. It wasn’t fair, not anymore.

 

“How can you make it stop?” Jazmine asked carefully.

 

Kaori smiled. “If you help me, Jazmine, I will help you.”

 

Jazmine wasn’t sure what that meant.

 

Kaori’s hand slid up, and her fingers pressed hard on Jazmine’s forehead. “When the time comes, you will know,” Kaori said. “Help me, Jazmine, and I will make the pain stop. Let me show you.”

 

As soon as Kaori had uttered the words, Jazmine felt something pull away from her, as if a burden was lifted. She looked up, and saw a number of branches fade; the thinnest ones, all from people she didn’t know, who had been around Chuck for a very short time. And she felt lighter, better, happier.

 

“You will feel so much better, once I free you from all of them,” Kaori said.

 

And Jazmine almost felt like laughing, she felt that good, just from the small burden that Kaori took away. “Thank you,” she said without even a second thought.

 

Kaori smiled. “Little Jazmine. I’m looking out for you. Remember that.”

 

Then Kaori’s visage began to fade.

 

Jazmine felt a strong pull on her body, as if she was being yanked up really fast. She imagined it might be what a really fast elevator going up felt like, if she’d ever experience it.

 

She still sensed the tree digging into her body even as she flew up, but the darkness made way for light, a blinding light, and she was pushing against some kind of ceiling or barrier or —

 

Jazmine opened her eyes.

 

**Scene 52 - Mako**

 

Mako's heart pounded so fiercely in her chest it seemed as if she could hear the thump in her ears. A wireless headset streamed the LOCCENT feed into her ear.

 

This was it. This was the other part of her training. It was the first field operation sensei was taking her with and Mako was as ready as she could be.

 

She tried hard to not gloat at least a little; Scott Hansen was brought in and discovered to be a Kaiju agent thanks to her efforts, and now they had an opportunity to capture another agent. Not only that, but sensei had her running point, given her familiarity with Yancy and Chuck.

 

Sensei was in the second command jet with the ops control team—Sasha, Aleksis, Jin, Hu and Cheung. Mako, Yancy and Tamsin were in the primary command jet as the infiltrator team. And Tamsin had at least displayed enough sense to leave them alone after the briefing at the start of the flight.

 

Mako glanced at Yancy. Heat crawled up from her gut to her chest and she was trying to keep it off her cheeks. She had not anticipated having such a reaction to him. After all, sensei now regularly punished her, and allowed Sasha or Jin to reward her. Her needs were being met. Weren’t they?

 

But she kept recalling that night, right before she left. When Yancy had picked up on her signals so well. Back then, they had been searching for Chuck for months. At first, Mako had managed, but as the weeks passed by her need had grown stronger to the point where relieving herself with her hands were not nearly enough. She craved the pain and the release that followed, the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure. She wasn’t going to ask Yancy for it. Not after everything she owed him, everything the PPDC had put him through, not after what they had done to Chuck. But Yancy had seen it anyway.

 

And then… after going so long without, Yancy’s touch had lit her up like fire. His hands, his belt, and just _him_. Around her, on top of her, inside her.

 

She’d tried to forget about it. Tried to deny that she felt the ghost of his touch on her skin every night, that now no matter how much sensei punished her or how much she was rewarded, it wasn’t enough. Some kind of hunger had awakened, new and unfamiliar and consuming, and it wouldn’t go away.

 

And it was wrong. It had to be. It was disobedient to sensei. So she had pushed herself further than ever, renewing her commitment to him, quietly calling him Master to herself even when she did not have to come in for punishment.

 

It still wasn’t enough.

 

Right now, with Yancy across from her, his mind on those he cared about, Mako knew she was not one of those people. It made her chest burn sharply, painfully, and she couldn’t stand it. It was weak. She did not care for being weak.

 

What puzzled her the most was that this wasn’t Drift compatibility. They had not reacted to each other this way from the start. It hadn’t been there. Until suddenly it was there, it was everywhere, _Yancy_ was everywhere, on her skin and in her hair and her mouth and between her legs.

 

This was no good. She had to focus on the mission. It was absolutely essential that she did not get distracted.

 

“Mako,” Yancy said.

 

Fire jumped through her skin. “Y-yes,” Mako replied. Yancy hadn’t said much, not even during the briefing which must have given him plenty of questions. He was still disturbed from his session with Scott.

 

“This whole thing,” Yancy said, gesturing around him. “This kind of operation… has the PPDC always been like this?”

 

Mako nodded. "The pet training is only a part of our organization. But we did not risk an open confrontation. Rescuing Chuck was our first field mission."

 

“So the PPDC _is_ a government operation?” Yancy inquired.

 

That wasn’t entirely true, Mako knew. Well, the PPDC _was_ in some ways a government organization, in the sense that the Department of Defense knew they existed and allowed them to pursue the Kaiju using their own methods. In the sense that money flowed towards the PPDC from other nations and influential people who would see the Kaiju struck down.

 

Mako knew little about the details. _Plausible deniability_ , Sasha had called it. The less Mako knew, the less of a risk she would be during field ops.

 

“More or less,” Mako eventually replied.

 

It seemed as if Yancy wanted to ask more, but the intercom bleeped up. "We're fifteen minutes from Anchorage," the pilot's voice came.

  
Tamsin walked out of the cockpit and gave Mako a slight nod. "As discussed during the briefing, we'll land at the Elmendorf Air Base and drive east to the Becket mansion," she said. "You two are the diplomatic team and will go in first. Don't raise suspicion. We’re working together with Ford Richardson to close off all roads and monitor air traffic."

 

Yancy sighed. "And I figured the PPDC was just a fucked up whorehouse."

 

Tamsin strode towards Yancy and hovered over him. "You are the weakest link in this operation, Mr. Becket," she snapped. "I advised Marshal Pentecost to leave you at HQ. You're a civilian. You do as you're told and you won't question any orders, is that clear?"

 

Yancy glared at her. "You don't need to tell me that," he growled. "My family is in danger."

 

Tamsin moved even closer. "This isn't some business deal, pretty-boy. Don't make me regret not sedating you and leaving you in this plane after we move out."

 

"He's got the message, Tamsin," Mako interjected.

 

"Hmph," Tamsin grumbled, and moved back to the cockpit.

 

"I'm sorry," Mako offered after she left. "She doesn't trust you."

 

"I don't trust her," Yancy scoffed. Then he raised his eyebrows at Mako. "But you trust me?"

 

Mako felt the flush return to her face. It was ridiculous; after so many years of training, she should be able to at least control her own blushing response.

 

"Yes," she replied after a while.

 

"Why?" Yancy insisted, and Mako heard the deeper timbre of his trainer self behind the question. She bit her lip.

 

"You helped search for Chuck," Mako explained. "And then you came back, to help your brother."

 

"I abused Chuck," Yancy said. "And I put Raleigh at risk by sending Chuck to him."

 

Mako's eyes met Yancy's, and she held his gaze. This was the first time Yancy had said something truly to that effect, recognizing his own part in the events.

 

"Yes," Mako answered after a while. There were really no excuses she could make for Yancy, or for herself.

 

A silence fell between them, and for some time, neither of them spoke, only listening to the low hum of the plane as the stormy clouds drifted past underneath them.

 

"Pentecost, does he take good care of you?" Yancy said.

 

Mako suppressed a gasp, meeting Yancy's gaze again. He looked genuinely curious — perhaps even worried.

 

"Y-yes," Mako stammered. She hadn't expected Yancy to ask about such private matters now that their relationship had taken a turn back to the professional.

 

"Does he give you what you need, now?" Yancy continued.

 

And Mako looked away. Because she wanted to tell him the truth — that she craved Yancy more than her sensei _._ She believed that eventually, this infatuation would pass. A lot of unpleasant things had happened in the past few years. When she centered herself again, she would find peace with her sensei.

 

She knew Yancy had risen from his seat and was standing next to her, and still she did not look up.

 

"Mako, look at me," Yancy said, in a tone of voice that Mako wanted to obey, made her squirm in a way she did not with sensei. It wasn't right, she wasn't supposed to react to anyone else this way. Only sensei.

 

Yancy's fingers ran over her jaw, underneath her chin, and lifted her face up to meet his gaze.

 

"You went back to him," Yancy said softly.

 

Mako nodded silently. There was something in the way Yancy looked at her that made her feel helpless, vulnerable, and more than anything, filled with a craving she did not have words for.

 

"I wish you hadn't," Yancy continued, his voice dropping further in volume.

 

Mako trembled a little. Was Yancy saying what she thought he did — what she wanted him to say? Yancy was so close to her now. She could feel the warmth coming off his body, his scent… he'd taken a shower after leaving the room Scott was in, and now he smelled fresh and masculine, wearing one of the PPDC's standard suits in dark blue.

 

"I needed to help Chuck --" Mako began.

 

Yancy's thumb struck ever so lightly over her lips, and she closed her eyes, if only for a moment, relishing the small touch.

 

"I wish we had more time," Yancy murmured.

 

Mako tried to get a hold of herself. "This isn't the time," she managed.

 

Yancy leaned back. "No, it isn't."

 

And sat back down in his own seat.

 

"Prepare for landing," The pilot announced over the intercom. "Put your seat belts on, we're starting descent in one minute."

 

Mako quickly wrapped the belt around her waist and moved to glance out the window, avoiding further eye contact with Yancy. She felt a little dizzy, flushed, brought off-center.

 

Did Yancy mean what he said? Could there be something… another time? Oh, she wanted to. She needed to focus on her mission now more than anything, but she wanted to so much.

 

The plane shuddered as it moved down, through the layers of clouds, into the harsh weather below.

 

**Scene 53 - Chuck**

 

It was the middle of the night, and Chuck woke up.

 

He couldn't really say why — he didn't feel like he had to go to the bathroom, but that was usually the reason he woke up at night, aside from the nightmares he still had even if they were less frequent and intense after his drift with Jazmine. So he got up and made his way through the dark hallway to find a bathroom, using a small LED bulb to light the way.

 

There was a vague tingle at the back of his mind, something pulling at him, trying to get his attention. But he couldn't quite say what it was he should be paying attention to. He relieved himself, tucked himself back in and turned to go back to his room when there was a hand on his mouth and a steel grip on the back of his head, keeping him in place.

 

He'd left the small, round light of the candle in the sink, and it quietly illuminated the room. He had no trouble recognizing Kaori.

 

Chuck had been taught better than to fight in this situation. He nodded, slowly, arms relaxed at his side. Whatever Kaori was up to, he wasn't going to protest. Hell, Kaori had been one of the few people to support him and certainly was more favorable towards him than Tendo. Maybe she had some sort of plan, something that could help Jazmine or Raleigh.

 

Kaori smiled at his cooperation, and removed her hands. "Thank you," she whispered. "Chuck, I need your help."

 

Chuck nodded again. "For what?"

 

"I can help Jazmine," Kaori said. "But I cannot take her out of here alone."

 

Chuck cocked his head. "I'm not sure..." he started.

 

Then the tingle in his mind became a soft buzz, a weird background noise in his ears. It felt familiar, like… "Jazmine?" he mumbled, a little stunned.

 

"I'm here," Jazmine's voice came from the corridor.

 

Kaori reached for Jazmine, touched her shoulder, and then Jazmine smiled, wheeling herself into the bathroom. Which was at least spacious enough for the three of them. Kaori reached for the portable light bulb, and switched it off. Darkness fell between them, and Chuck shivered.

 

"Jaz, you're awake," he whispered. He wanted to shout it, really. But something else was going on, and Kaori needed the darkness, evidently.

 

His eyes were slowly getting used to the dark, a little light spilling out from further down the hallway, where light from outside was falling in. He couldn't make out Jazmine's face, but he reached out to her, found her hand, and squeezed it. "I'm glad," Chuck said.

 

"Me too," Jazmine replied. "Chuck… will you help me?"

 

Chuck hesitated. "But it's like, kidnapping you," he spoke, hushed. "Your dad —”

 

"My father wants to keep me here like a bird in a cage!" Jazmine interrupted, and was promptly hushed by Kaori. She coughed. "Sorry," Jazmine whispered to Kaori.

 

"Where are you going?" Chuck asked, frowning. He wasn't going to let Kaori just wheel Jazmine out of the mansion to god knows where. Tendo and Yancy were going to be super pissed at him for that.

 

"Back to my home," Kaori replied.

 

Chuck's frown stayed. "So why don't you just ask Yancy? Why at night?" He was getting to full wakefulness, and the situation was making less and less sense.

 

Even in the darkness, Kaori's eyes seem to light up a bit — flashing like a cat's. "Because Jazmine is a prisoner here, Chuck. Surely you have noticed?"

 

Chuck thought about it, and couldn't really find a counterargument. "Yeah," he mumbled. When he'd first arrived in the mansion, he hadn't even known Jazmine was there. And Raleigh had kept her presence a secret until Chuck discovered Jazmine on his own. And when he tried to take her outside, everyone had gotten mad at him. Okay, so, she'd fallen down and unconscious but… none of it seemed very fair to him.

 

And he'd seen a lot of it in the drift. The way they had all treated Jazmine, like she was some kind of precious creature made of porcelain, who shouldn't be made upset, who shouldn't do anything, see anything. And Raleigh had been so nice to Chuck otherwise, was always ready to help him.

 

No matter how Chuck put it, it was all kind of strange.

 

"Why is that?" Chuck eventually asked.

 

"Because Jazmine is special," Kaori answered. "You've felt it, haven't you? You have seen it. She helped you."

 

Chuck nodded, embarrassed to be reminded of how Jazmine had taken on so much of his pain. "But she got hurt," he argued.

 

"Yes, but you feel better, don't you?" Kaori argued.

 

"Y-yeah… what are you saying?" Chuck said. Kaori was getting to something, and he didn't understand.

 

His eyes were quite used to the darkness now, and he could make out Kaori's face as well as Jazmine's. "Just tell me what's going on," Chuck insisted.

 

"Jazmine is being used by her family to take away their pain," Kaori said, and Chuck heard a gasp from Jazmine, saw her avert her eyes.

 

Chuck shook his head. "No way, that's terrible. Raleigh would never do something like that to her!"

 

"But you think Yancy and Tendo could, don't you?" Kaori quickly offered.

 

Chuck bit his lip. He wanted to deny it, wanted to stay loyal to Yancy, to his owner. But with what Yancy had done to him, he couldn't say for sure, not really. It would be blind faith, not trust. "I don't know," he eventually mumbled.

 

"Something bad happened," Jazmine said softly, and she sounded incredibly sad. "They all want to forget about it.  It's not… they don't _mean_ to hurt me..."

 

"Intentional or not, they are keeping you here, Jazmine," Kaori said. "And I said I would help you."

 

"Charlie, please," Jazmine said, and she squeezed Chuck's hand. "I want to go with Kaori."

 

Chuck looked at her and saw the tears in her eyes. "'m sorry I hurt you," he whispered to her.

 

"It's okay," Jazmine replied. "It was my choice. I wanted to help."

 

"But..." Chuck started.

 

"Kaori can help me," Jazmine said. She sounded desperate, searching Chuck's approval. It was almost as if… he could feel it, could hear her words echoing in his mind even though she didn't speak them. _Please, Chuck, I want to get out, I want the pain to stop_.

 

Chuck's shoulders fell down, and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Jazmine's temple. "O-okay," he mumbled. "I'll help."

 

"Good," Kaori said. "I cannot get Jazmine out of the mansion myself."

 

Chuck nodded. "Just… tell me what to do, I guess," he said softly.

 

"I need you to distract them," Kaori said.

 

"Distract who…?" Chuck started.

 

The lights in the hallway flickered on, and there was a lot of noise coming from the main entrance of the mansion.

 

"Them," Kaori said. "Don't worry about anything else. Go hold them off."

 

Chuck frowned, but nodded. Now that he'd agreed, he was going to do whatever he could for Jazmine.

 

"Thank you," Jazmine said, and Chuck could see the tears in her eyes now. He wasn't sure what to say. But he knew what to do.

 

Still dressed in nothing but his pajama slacks, he ran in the direction of the noise.

 

**Scene 54 - Yancy**

 

Yancy walked into his home, Mako following closely behind. He felt _good_ — oddly so, considering what he'd gone through in the last 24 hours, considering he just about murdered Scott, considering the enormous stress and pressure.

 

But Mako was there, her presence somehow lending him strength, and warmth, in ways he wasn't really familiar with.

 

He wasn't sure what he'd been thinking when he approached her on the plane, just that he needed to… make sure, somehow. Seeing her deference to Pentecost made him feel like tiny needles were jabbed into his skin — annoying, prickling, nearly painful. And when she said he took care of her, Yancy had trouble believing her words. Not with the way she was blushing, the way her body was giving away all these tell-tale signs despite all of her training.

 

It had been that one night, hadn't it?

 

But right now, it wasn't the time. Later. Right now, they had to get to Kaori. They had to capture her before she had the chance to harm Jazmine or Chuck, or worse.

 

They arrived in the middle of the night, and the house was dark and quiet. Yancy flicked the hallway lights on with the entrance console. He glanced at Mako and nodded. There was no reason to make conversation; they discussed the plans during the briefing. Mako was going to the security center in the basement, and lock all doors and windows from there, effectively trapping everyone inside. The PPDC was going all-out on this one, blocking off roads and everything, but Yancy hoped it would be as simple as catching Kaori still inside the mansion.

 

Just as Mako had left the entrance hall, Chuck came running down the stairs. Yancy braced himself. Between him and Chuck… there was a lot they needed to talk about. A lot he had to apologize for, most of which he would never be able to make right. This wasn't the time, either.

 

Chuck wasn’t wearing anything except for his slacks, and it was the first time Yancy had seen Chuck in any state of undress since the day they had been separated at the PPDC headquarters in LA.

 

His eyes quickly raked over Chuck’s body. Saw all the little scars, the imperfections that weren’t there before. Yancy didn’t know who put them there — but he wanted to kill all of them for daring to cut into Chuck. Yancy had _never_ cut or burnt him. Never. Always made sure that the marks were temporary.

 

He wanted to hold Chuck right then and there, bring Chuck to his knees, make him say —

 

And Yancy stopped himself right there. This wasn’t the time. And it never would be, again.

 

"You're back," Chuck gasped, running up to him.

 

"Yeah," Yancy replied, trying to regain his calm. "Is everything okay?"

 

"Yes, I'm fine. What, uh, what’s the news? About Raleigh? Have you found him?" Chuck asked, and his eyes met Yancy's.

 

The boy was lying. Or hiding something.

 

Yancy hadn't trained Chuck to the best of his ability only to be fooled now, and his eyes narrowed.

 

"What's going on, Chuck?" he said, his voice slow and even in tone.

 

A tremor ran through Chuck's body, and he cast his eyes downward, searching for something to say.

 

Yancy lightly grabbed Chuck's chin and lifted it up again, a gesture as familiar as ever. "Why are you lying to me?"

 

"I-I'm not," Chuck said, his cheeks flushing, avoiding Yancy's gaze.

 

"You just lied to me again," Yancy said. He felt Chuck tense up under his touch. Then his expression softened. “Who told you to do this?”

 

Chuck bit his lip, and Yancy could see the tension in his neck, could see Chuck wrestling with his urge to obey Yancy.

 

It wasn’t fair, but Yancy knew he had to make sure. He needed all the information about what was going on. “ _Pet_ ,” he said, using his commanding tone. “ _Tell me._ ”

 

Chuck trembled. “It’s Kaori,” he stuttered. “She told me to hold you off… I’m sorry.”

 

"Whatever Kaori said to you, she is not telling the truth," Yancy said. "She is a Kaiju agent."

 

Pure shock registered on Chuck's face. "No, no, she's gonna help Jaz," he stammered.

 

For a while, Yancy had thought Chuck was doing better. But now he could see how confused the boy still was — how much he was just trying to please the grown-ups around him.

 

His words deeply unsettled Yancy. "What happened to Jaz?" he said, very slowly.

 

And Chuck sank to his knees in front of Yancy, hands curling around his knees. "Jaz wanted to go with Kaori," Chuck whispered. "She begged me to help, and..." He lifted his head to meet Yancy's gaze, finally. "Is she really with the Kaiju?"

 

Yancy sighed. He wasn't entirely, one-hundred percent sure. But she _had_ to be. Kaori knew too many things, had her telepathic skills, had been there since Yancy's youth. Scott had told him there was an agent in his house. Stephanie had left just before Yancy had left for LA. And now, hearing that Kaori had somehow convinced Jaz to go with her…

 

"Where are they, Chuck?" Yancy asked, placing a hand on Chuck's shoulder. A low panic was setting in just thinking about what could happen to Jaz, and he tried to force it away as best he could. Remember Tamsin’s sneer about him being a civilian, and made himself do better.

 

"I-I don't know," Chuck whispered.

 

Yancy frowned. Just how did Kaori figure she was going to get out of here together with Jazmine, anyway? Jaz couldn't walk, and making a run for it was difficult with a wheelchair. On her own, Kaori at least still had a chance of escaping.

 

"Where did you last see them?" Yancy asked.

 

Chuck closed his eyes and slumped further into a ball. "East wing, bathroom near my room," he mumbled.

 

Yancy hesitated, and then ran a hand through Chuck's hair, a thumb over the boy’s cheekbones, a small token of affection. "Thank you. Can you go wait in the office?"

 

And he headed straight to the east wing.

 

**Scene 55 - Chuck**

 

As soon as the echo of Yancy’s steps died down, Chuck picked himself up off the floor and headed to the office east of the entrance hall.

 

He didn’t come to this room very often, and now of all days he remembered this was where he first met Raleigh. He’d been all naked and chained up in a cage, then. The days before that had been a bit of a blur…

 

Chuck plopped himself down on the sofa, and in his confusion about the current situation, he let his mind wander to the past.

 

He remembered when Sasha and Aleksis busted him out… he’d been in a private session with someone, another patron of Hannibal’s, a coprophiliac. Scat play was one of the few things Hannibal hadn’t put Chuck through yet. Then Aleksis put a bullet through the patron’s head, and it was over.

 

He hadn’t asked questions or put up a fight. Just let Aleksis carry him out in those gigantic arms whilst Sasha decimated the dungeon staff and patrons, setting slaves free on their way out. It was chaos.

 

He was brought back to the PPDC, cleaned up, tested, evaluated. And sent to Raleigh.

 

Looking back, Chuck wasn’t sure whether Mako tricked Pentecost to get Chuck to the Becket mansion, or whether that was Pentecost’s intention all along. They never mentioned it to him. Chuck was told he was going to some client in Canada instead.

 

Either way, the PPDC was here now. The place was crawling with them.

 

Yancy had called him _pet_ again, and it’s like a tiny fire lit up in Chuck’s chest. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed it. How much he missed Yancy. Maybe even more than Raleigh, and he felt bad for thinking that way. But right now… Raleigh would comfort him, but Yancy made the world stop spinning around Chuck’s head. Yancy made things simple. Being a pet was simple, once you got used to it. You just followed orders, behaved properly, pleased everyone. Being a pet was nice. It was the only thing he really knew how to do.

 

Chuck curled up further, wrapping his arms around himself.

 

**Scene 56 - Mako**

 

The security system at the Becket mansion wasn't nearly as complicated as most of the equipment the PPDC had, and getting the hang of it took her less than a second. She swiped Yancy's security card through it, thankful for the total lack of DNA- and fingerprint authorization. Though it would benefit the family to have better security in the future.

 

Her hands flew over the consoles, locking down different sections of the house. For a place that looked so 19th century, at least the wiring underneath all the hardwood floors and frames was well-done. Doors snapped shut, windows closed and disappeared behind protective screens. It would be quite difficult for Kaori to get out — assuming she was still in the house.

 

The security center was poorly lit. Mako didn't hear anyone approach until it was too late, a hand covering her mouth as the blade sunk into her side.

 

Mako collapsed on the floor, her hands flying to her stomach and quickly turning red and sticky with her own blood. She looked up, and Kaori was standing over her, wiping the small _tant_ _ō_ dagger on a handkerchief, then tucking it back in the waist of her modern-style kimono.

 

"You'll never make it out of here," Mako coughed. She applied pressure to the wound, keeping her movement and breathing as shallow as possible.

 

"<Poor Mako-chan>," Kaori murmured. "<Don't worry, daddy will come and save you.>" She moved to the security console. Mako followed Kaori's movements and the different images on the screen. There was a part of the mansion's map that lit up, a part she hadn't seen before. Kaori caught her gaze and then, kneeled down. She held out her hand and opened it up to reveal a small blue pill.

 

"Take it," Kaori said, reverting to English. "It will slow down your heart rate. You won't bleed out."

 

"Why?" Mako replied, feeling increasingly dizzy as she was losing more blood. She felt it running down her side, over her hips.

 

"Why stab you if I want to save you? Yes, what a mystery," Kaori said, leaving the pill in front of Mako. "Tell your daddy one thing, little one. I do not belong with those abominations you call Kaiju. The world you live in is not so black and white."

 

Kaori rose to her feet and tapped a button on the console. Mako heard a door slide open, outside of the security center. A secret passageway? If Yancy had known of it, he would have told them. But Mako remembered Kaori had been with the Becket family since Yancy was still a child.

 

Black flecks began to dance in her vision and she slumped down further. Hesitantly, she reached for the blue pill. It could just as well be poison, Mako thought. But she was going to die anyway, unless Yancy got there soon. She reached out for the small blue pebble, put it on her tongue and swallowed it, tasting her own blood in the process. Soon after, she lost consciousness.

 

**Scene 57 - Yancy**

 

Yancy's headset piped up as he was running through the halls, noting the faint red lights on the doors and windows as Mako was closing them down one floor at a time.

 

"Tamsin to Yancy. Find Mako. _Now._ Her vitals are dropping, fast."

 

Yancy stopped in his tracks, spun around, and ran the other way, adrenaline bursting into his veins and through his limbs so fast his surroundings turned into a blur.

 

When he got to the security center, all he saw was blood, before he saw Mako, a curled up pile of red-and-blue underneath the desk console.

 

"Mako!" Yancy shouted. "MAKO!!!"

 

He carefully placed his hand in front of her nose and mouth. She was still breathing, thank god, but barely. He tapped the headset on his ear. "Yancy to Tamsin, Mako, she's hurt badly, real bad. Get over here, please, shit… there's all this blood."

 

"Hold it together, Yancy," Tamsin's voice came back. "I'm on my way with back-up."

 

"Y-yeah, okay," Yancy stammered. He wasn't used to following orders — usually, it was the other way around. And he panicked at seeing Mako all messed up and bloody. "Kaori’s gone, she took Jaz, she took my sister!" Yancy felt like he was coming apart at the seams. Less than half an hour ago, he'd felt good — now it was as if everything was falling to pieces. He'd lost Chuck before, only getting him back all messed up, and now he'd lost Raleigh, lost Jaz, lost Mako.

 

"Listen, Yancy," Tamsin said, ignoring Yancy's panicked pleas."The staff is probably waking up now, as well as Mr. Choi. I need you to… talk to them. Keep them calm. No details. Do you understand?"

 

Yancy pulled a hand over his face. "Yes. Yeah. I'll manage," he said. He knelt down next to Mako again and checked her breathing again. "Tamsin, just _get here_ ," he choked out.

 

"I'm here," Tamsin said behind him. "Stand clear and let me examine her."

 

Yancy followed her directions again, letting Tamsin do her thing. All he could see was blood, still. Tamsin turned around. " _Go_ ," she snapped. "Talk to your staff. Take care of Chuck."

 

One hour later, Yancy had collected the mansion's staff at the entrance, along with Tendo and Chuck.

 

"Everyone," Yancy started. "I'm sorry to get you all up at this hour, but I'm sure you've noticed something's going on." He glanced at Chuck. "Our guest, Kaori Jessop, turns out to be a fugitive, wanted by the government. We are working together with the US Marshals to apprehend her." It was mostly a lie, though Pentecost _was_ a US Marshal. Possibly a retired one, but still. "She has taken Jazmine with her, as a hostage," Yancy added.

 

Worried whispers and hushed words went back and forth between the crowd, and Yancy gave them a minute, before hushing them down. He could see the rising confusion in Tendo's face, and shook his head at him. They would talk separately.

 

"I understand if these circumstances unsettle you. For your safety, it's best if you stay in your quarters until Ms. Jessop is caught or found clear of the estate," Yancy went on. Several people nodded, clusters of befriended people forming, protective of each other. "Feel free to stay with your friends," Yancy added, noticing this. Many of them looked relieved at that. Finally, Yancy sighed. "You have fifteen minutes to gather your things. Don't worry too much, things will probably get back to normal by morning." He flashed one of his charming smiles. "You've always been a great help to the Becket family, all of you," he said. "You'll be safe here."

 

After the crowd dispersed, Tendo approached him. But Yancy wasn't feeling especially sympathetic.

 

"You pointed me towards her," was the first thing he said to Tendo. "Now she's taken Jaz!"

 

"And just in time, too," Tendo hissed. “Look what you dragged into our house.” He nodded at the two PPDC guards posted at the door.

 

Yancy was stunned. "Wh… what?”

 

Tendo moved closer to Yancy, close enough to whisper in his ear. “Kaori is taking Jazmine to safety. You will have to trust me. Trust me, instead of your new friends.”

 

Yancy was shaking his head. What did this even mean? Tendo practically raised him and Raleigh. Was he with the Kaiju? What the hell was going on?

 

The front doors of the mansion opened, and Tamsin stepped inside.

 

“Mako’s condition is no longer critical,” she said to Yancy, not even bothering to greet anyone. “She’s lost a lot of blood, but she will be fine. Stacker is with her.”

 

“Thank god,” Yancy said, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The image of Mako’s slumped form in a pool of blood was seared into his retinas, and if it hadn’t been for Tamsin’s firm orders, he would still be in shock. He’d seen his share of sex, drugs and dubstep, but nothing like that. Nothing with that much blood.

 

“What about Jaz?”

 

“We’ve found an escape tunnel in the basement with their tracks. They can’t have gotten far,” Tamsin replied. “We’ll find them.”

 

Yancy sighed, and glanced at Tendo. He had no idea what to make of Tendo’s comments. Was it possible that Tendo and Kaori were working together? But there’s no way Tendo was with the Kaiju. Maybe it was something else. Maybe he’d been wrong about Kaori. Maybe they _were_ trying to help Jaz. God knows the PPDC could hardly be trusted taking care of anyone.

 

“I need some time to think,” Yancy mumbled.

 

He left the entrance hall, into the large office on the right of it. And found Chuck there, curled up on the sofa. Waiting, like Yancy had told him to.

 

Yancy closed the door behind him and approached Chuck.

 

“How are you feeling?” he said, sitting on the sofa across from Chuck, strategically keeping the coffee table between them. He needed to create some distance, but somehow, he never succeeded, Chuck always reaching out to bridge the gap.

 

“This room is where I first met Raleigh,” Chuck mumbled, not answering Yancy’s question. “I wonder where he is now? I wonder where Jaz is. And Mako. Did she come? I haven’t…” Chuck curled up even more, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I don’t know what’s going on anymore,” he whispered. “I messed things up for everyone.”

 

“None of this is your fault,” Yancy said. The words didn’t even sound reassuring to himself. If Chuck needed anything to settle his mind, it was the truth.

 

“We didn’t get a chance to talk before,” Yancy started, trying to make eye contact. Chuck kept staring at his knees.

 

“About when I was with Kaori. Though now I… I’m not sure how much of it was true, but…”

 

That’s right — he hadn’t even considered that, before he’d said it out loud. Maybe Kaori had been feeding him bullshit. Maybe those memories were false.

 

He wanted to believe that, so badly.

 

And he knew it would be a lie.

 

Yancy took a deep breath, and decided to no longer beat around the bush. "Chuck… we need to talk," he said. "I know this is hardly the time, with everything that's going, on, but… we need to settle things between us."

 

Chuck looked up, his eyes a little shifty, uncertain. "Yeah," Chuck mumbled. "I guess we do."

 

Yancy sat forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and squarely met Chuck's gaze. "Chuck, the way I feel about you… what we did together, all that time, I don't think anyone else understands," he started.

 

Chuck nodded, slowly.

 

"But I… I hurt you," Yancy said. "I took advantage of you. You were too young, you were powerless, you were… unable to consent." He sighed. "And they gave you drugs to make you like me." He wanted to deny it, to avoid Chuck, avoid his own guilt. But he couldn't, not anymore. If Chuck had any chance at healing, at becoming his own person, Yancy needed to let him go. "By the law, and by all circumstances… Chuck, what I did to you, it was —"

 

"Don't say it was rape," Chuck interrupted. His expression was angry, upset. "Everyone keeps telling me that, but I don't feel it. I don't feel terrible because of you."

 

Yancy shook his head. "That doesn't make it any less wrong." He let out another sigh. "I should be in prison."

 

He could see Chuck was trying to hold back his tears, but he didn't reach out. No matter how much he wanted to hold the boy right now — comfort him, give him the discipline he needed and wanted — he couldn't. Not anymore.

 

"When Scott raped me, all I could think about was you," Chuck choked out, and his voice trembled. "I was afraid you'd be angry with me. Afraid you wouldn't want me anymore, that I was being punished, that, that I..."

 

Chuck was shaking now, quiet sobs working their way up through his body.

 

"There were so many of them, owner," Chuck sobbed. "On the streets and then at the dungeon and they wouldn't stop, they made me do all these things, and, and just… when I saw you and you called me your pet again, I knew it would be okay, but then you …. and Rals said it was bad but it wasn't! I didn't remember and then I did, I remember it all, and… please… _please_ ," he cried, his body unfolding from the sofa, falling to the floor. "Please, just make it go away," he whimpered, crawling towards Yancy. "I know you can, owner, _please_."

 

This was a mistake. Yancy had thought Chuck was ready to talk, but he wasn't ready at all. And he couldn't stand seeing the boy like this, making him hurt further, when he could fix it, make him feel better. It wasn't _right_ , Yancy knew. It wasn't. But just seeing Chuck, such a mess, kneeling in front of him once more, all Yancy wanted was to take the boy into his arms and give him what he needed.

 

Yancy ran his hand into Chuck's hair, swallowing hard. He couldn't do this. He _couldn't_. Chuck needed to stand on his own two feet, learn to…

 

Chuck nudged his head in between Yancy's thighs, hands lightly curling over Yancy’s knees. "Please, owner," Chuck gasped, even as his tears moistened the fabric of Yancy's slacks.

 

Yancy shivered. His defenses were breaking down, he knew. He felt the bond between them tug at him like a gravity well, drawing him in, and he knew he should resist. He should.

 

"Pet," Yancy gasped, his hand tightening ever so slightly in Chuck's hair. "Come up here."

 

Chuck crawled onto his lap, nudging his head against Yancy's chest, eyes closed. "Owner," Chuck breathed.

 

"I'm here," Yancy whispered hoarsely. His hand rested lightly on Chuck's thigh. He ran a hand underneath Chuck's jaw and lifted the boy's up to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry I let them hurt you, pet. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

 

Yancy felt the tears in his own eyes, and his arm ran up Chuck's thigh, around his waist, pulling him in tighter.

 

"A long time ago, I was a boy, younger than you," Yancy said, barely audible. He pressed his forehead against Chuck's. "And… I had an uncle who hurt me."

 

He heard Chuck's sharp intake of breath.

 

"He made me do things I didn't want to do," Yancy continued. "But I had to protect Raleigh." His lip trembled. "I should have protected you, pet. From them. From your uncle. From..."

 

Chuck's lips pressed against his, soft and undemanding. “It’s okay,” Chuck whispered.

 

Yancy's eyes flew open to meet Chuck's, his vision still blurred through the tears. "Pet," he mumbled.

 

"Please," Chuck replied, and rolled his hips into Yancy's abdomen.

 

Yancy gasped, the sensation of Chuck's half-hard cock rutting into him nearly too much. He should stop this, he should push Chuck off, he should…

 

Yancy ran his hands down to Chuck's ass and pulled Chuck snug against him. He wasn't hard himself. This wasn’t about him.

 

But he knew Chuck. He knew his pet, his boy, inside and out, intimately, every inch. And he had missed him, so much. His fingertips told him Chuck had buffed up a little, his buttocks a bit larger and firmer than the last time they'd done this, and — fuck, that was years ago.

 

Chuck's cock, pressing insistently against Yancy's stomach through the fabric of Chuck's pajama pants, felt bigger too.

 

"Oh, pet," Yancy gasped. "Is this what you want? Is it what you need?"

 

Chuck mumbled a soft "Yes, sir," against the fabric of Yancy's shirt.

 

Yancy nodded, slowly. He could do this much. It still wasn't right, it wasn't at all, but…

 

"Do you want to come?" Yancy whispered.

 

Chuck whimpered and rocked harder, faster against him. "Yes, sir," he gasped once more.

 

Yancy braced Chuck's waist with one arm and ran his other hand down the cleft of Chuck's ass, finding his sensitive hole, gently circling it with his fingertips, not pressing inside.

 

Chuck whined and tensed against him. "P-please," he gasped. "Can, can I --"

 

"Yes, you may," Yancy replied.

 

Chuck's soft cry as he came on Yancy's lap, soiling his underwear and pants, was the most wonderful sound Yancy had heard in years.

 

He continued to hold Chuck after that, waiting for the boy to come back down, to talk to him.

 

"Thank you," Chuck eventually gasped. "I… I know it's not what… they tell me I'm not supposed to," he stammered. "But..."

 

"How long has it been?" Yancy murmured, gently stroking Chuck's back.

 

"I… with Rals, months ago," Chuck replied, shivering. "I, ah, uh..."

 

"It's okay," Yancy said. "You can be with him. I'm not… I'm not mad." _You should be with him instead of me_ , Yancy thought.

 

"I fainted, then," Chuck said, a hint of wonder to his voice. "I'm not fainting now."

 

Yancy nodded. He wasn't sure he understood entirely, but he knew he could make Chuck feel safe, comforted. And if that's what the boy needed right now, then… he told himself that's what it was, anyway.

 

"You said, someone hurt you, when you were little," Chuck went on, his voice a little clearer and louder.

 

"Yeah," Yancy said. "My uncle."

 

Chuck lifted his head up to gaze at Yancy. "He… did he… touch you…? "

 

Yancy nodded, his arms tightening a little around Chuck. "Many times, for several years."

 

"That's it, then," Chuck said.

 

"What do you mean?" Yancy replied, leaning back a little.

 

Chuck's expression was determined now, clarity returned to his eyes, and he looked older again, no longer Yancy's little pet. "Jaz said there was something dark everyone here tried to hide, like a secret, but she didn't know what." He nodded slowly, thinking. "That must be it."

 

Then his eyes took on a hard glint, something Yancy hadn't seen often on Chuck before, certainly not so close to him. "It's the reason she's sick," Chuck said, and he honestly sounded a little annoyed. "Jaz, she absorbs people's pain. And this whole time, since she was little, she's been taking in yours." Chuck sat back, climbing off Yancy's lap. “But in the end… it was too much. And she wanted to leave.”

 

Yancy frowned, blinked, trying to process what Chuck had said. Trying to understand the implications.

 

“Jaz… she’s sick because of me? And that’s why she went along with Kaori? To get help?”

 

Chuck nodded slowly. “That’s what she said to me, before they left.”

 

“You didn’t stop them,” Yancy said.

 

“I wanted to help Jaz,” Chuck shot back. “You weren’t here,” he added indignantly. “I didn’t know.”

 

Yancy leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and running a hand through his hair. “What a mess,” he mumbled.

 

There was a short pause, until Chuck shuffled closer to him again. “What about Rals? And…”

 

Chuck didn’t have to finish that question — Yancy knew he meant Scott. And he still hadn’t quite figured out what the hell Scott had been talking about. About brothers, and blood, and families…

 

Yancy felt like he was looking at a puzzle that kept getting bigger and bigger with more pieces, and he couldn’t put it together; at the same time, it was like all the pieces _should_ fit together, like they made a whole picture, like it was all connected somehow.

 

He hadn’t even told Chuck about his dad, yet.

 

“Chuck —” Yancy started.

 

There was a loud knock on the door, and Stacker Pentecost stepped inside.

 

**Scene 58 - Jazmine**

 

The dark tunnel seemed to go on forever, Kaori’s hand on her shoulder, speeding her up. With Kaori’s continued touch, Jazmine felt light, better. But she wasn’t stupid.

 

“There’s a new branch,” Jazmine said. “It’s bright red. You hurt someone.”

 

“You’re so perceptive, little Jazmine,” Kaori said. Jazmine could hear the smile in her voice, and perhaps a hint of pride, too. “Yes. I pushed a knife into the PPDC woman’s side, to stop her from stopping us.”

 

“Will she be okay?” Jazmine asked. “You shouldn’t hurt people because of me,” she added. “Too many people are hurt…”

 

“That’s not your worry anymore,” Kaori answered. “But yes, the young lady will live. I took care not to hurt her fatally.”

 

“Okay,” Jazmin said, and she sighed. “How much further?”

 

“We’re almost there,” Kaori said, and just then, Jazmine heard a series of knocks come through the tunnel.

 

“See?” Kaori said. “They’re waiting.”

 

“You thought this through,” Jazmine remarked, frowning.

 

Kaori briefly let go of Jazmine to walk a few yards forward, and knock on the door as well. Then there were a few spoken words, none of which Jazmine recognized. They were probably in another language. Kaori spoke Japanese, so maybe that was it.

 

Kaori walked back, the door opening behind her.

 

There were two women waiting. Jazmine recognized Stephanie, but not the other. They both walked inside.

 

“Jazmine, you are the only reason I came back,” Kaori said, turning around. “You are a beautiful, very special young woman, and we are here to help you.”

 

Stephanie came up to stand next to Jazmine. “It’s good to see you again,” she said. And touched Jazmine’s hand. She felt strength flow into her body — it was different from Kaori, whose touch took away the branches, but it helped all the same.

 

“Stephanie,” Jazmine whispered. “What’s going on?”

 

The third woman stepped forward. She was a bit shorter and stockier, with shoulder-length blonde hair and hazel eyes. “Hello, Jazmine,” she said, sticking out her hand. “It’s good to finally meet you. My name is Kennedy, Kennedy LaRue.”

 

Jazmine took Kennedy’s hand, and felt something like warmth come off her touch. She felt even better now.

 

“Come on, stand up,” Kennedy said. “We kinda have to hurry!”

 

Jazmine blinked. “I’m in a wheelchair,” she started.

 

Kaori placed her hand back on Jazmine’s shoulder. “Try,” she simply said — and it almost sounded like an order.

 

Jazmine tried, and she fluidly rose from the wheelchair, taking several steps forward, without any pain or trouble.

 

“W... what…?” she stammered.

 

Kennedy laughed. “See? You’ll be fine!”

 

“Just don’t let go of us just yet,” Stephanie added in a tone of worry.

 

They began to walk to the tunnel’s exit.

 

“Kaori…” Jazmine said. “What is all this? Why are you able to help me?”

 

“It’s a long long story,” Kaori answered. “And we have a long long trip ahead to tell you.”

 

The tunnel’s door fell back into its lock behind them, leaving the wheelchair inside.

  


 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I bet you thought you'd seen the last of this fic.
> 
> This chapter took FOREVER. Some things happened in my personal life that made writing it harder; that, and the longer this thing gets, the slower each chapter goes, it seems. You have so much to take into account! I am glad to have found a great nitpicky beta in [Ishyko](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishyko/pseuds/Ishyko) <3
> 
> And here it finally is!

**Scene 59 - Chuck**

Over the course of an hour, Pentecost had gathered everyone into the office room — everyone except Mako, who was still at the hospital, recovering. Chuck had put on some clean underwear and clothes and then stuck to Yancy’s side as the other notable members of the PPDC had arrived; Tamsin, Sasha, Aleksis, and the Wei triplets.

Finally, confident that he had everyone’s attention, Pentecost strutted to the center of the room, hands behind his back.

“Trainers, Pets,” Pentecost started, which Chuck knew didn’t include Tamsin — but Pentecost might as well speak for her. “Our operation to apprehend the Kaiju agent suspect Kaori Jessop is still on-going. As you know, she has kidnapped Jazmine Becket, and at this point we assume Ms. Jessop will use the girl as a hostage. “

“They escaped the mansion through an escape tunnel, presumably built about half a century ago.” He glanced at Yancy. “Why the existence of the tunnel was not known to members of the Becket family is unclear. The escape route surfaces roughly a mile northwest from here, where the girl’s wheelchair has been recovered. Four different sets of footprints and tire tracks leads us to believe Ms. Jessop has help, very likely from Dr. Stephanie Lanphier, who was reported to have returned to her home in San Francisco, but whom we have not been able to contact since the start of the operation. The identity of the third party to assist in Ms. Jessop escape and kidnapping of the youngest Becket is currently unknown. Roadblocks have been set up at all points from the escape tunnel. At this point it is only a matter of time before the agent suspect is apprehended.”

“Finally, Miss Mori has been treated for her injuries, and will be transported back to PPDC headquarters as soon as possible. She will no longer take part in the current operation.”

“I am also afraid our current actions have made it necessary for us to speed up prep for Operation Lion’s Den,” Pentecost went on, and he approached Chuck and Yancy. “This means briefing Trainer Yancy Becket and Pet Chuck Hansen on the full scope of the PPDC’s activities and their role in the raid on Hannibal Chau’s dungeon complex.”

Chuck blinked. What did that mean? He glanced at the others, but they simply nodded in agreement, clearly already expecting this turn of events.

He felt Yancy’s hand on his back and eased up a little. As long as he could stick with his owner, he’d be okay, right?

“Tamsin and Trainers Sasha and Aleksis are to remain in Anchorage for the remainder of the search for Ms. Jessop and Jazmine Becket. Pets Jin, Hu, Cheung and Chuck and Trainer Becket will accompany me elsewhere.”

Chuck looked up at Yancy, and they exchanged a glance, which told them enough — neither of them knew what Pentecost meant. And from Pentecost’s demeanor it was quite clear that these were orders, non-negotiable.

It felt strange — so much time had passed since he had left the PPDC, and yet, now, Chuck felt like he had never left it at all. Pentecost addressed him as a Pet, his official title, which he had received along with the tattoo on his lower back, and furthermore called Yancy a Trainer. Like Yancy was still working for the PPDC too. And that couldn’t be true, could it?

Pentecost nodded to Tamsin, Sasha and Aleksis. “Dismissed,” he said, and they gave curt nods, only barely short of a salute. Pentecost turned towards the five of them left.

“Follow me.”

Yancy didn’t move, and lightly squeezed Chuck’s shoulder, so he didn’t move, either.

“What makes you think we’re just going to follow your orders?” Yancy began. “I am staying here, in my house, with my family. When Jazmine comes back, she needs me.” He looked at Chuck. “Us.”

“Yeah,” Chuck said, still a bit wary of speaking up near Pentecost. Something about the man just made him want to… cower.

Pentecost folded his arms behind his back again. “Do you want to save your brother or not, Trainer?”

Chuck heard the slight grunt in Yancy’s breath.

“Yeah. And stop calling me that — I am not one of your ‘trainers’.”

“But you are,” Pentecost retorted. “And if you come with me, all will be clear.”

Yancy crossed his arms, and went to stand protectively in front of Chuck. “That’s not good enough.”

Pentecost pinched the bridge of his nose in a rare gesture of emotion.

“I am offering you a chance here, Mr. Becket. A show of our trust in you. The answers you seek to questions you haven’t even thought to ask. Or to questions that are not yours.”

Pentecost shifted his attention towards Chuck. “Perhaps you would like to know why the PPDC took you in, Chuck. Why we hired Mr. Becket to train you. Why we risked everything to rescue you from Hannibal. And why we let you stay here, at this mansion.”

Pentecost’s words slammed into him so hard the impact was almost physical, and Chuck found his breath taken away. “Wha—?”

Yancy’s grip on Chuck stayed firm. “I know half of that already and I don’t need you to tell him.”

“My patience here is running _very_ thin, Mr. Becket,” Pentecost said. “If you do not come with us—”

“What? What are you going to do, shoot us? Force our cooperation?” Yancy hissed. “I haven’t slept in nearly a day, Chuck has probably only slept a few hours. You’re not going to drag us somewhere at the crack of dawn on some half-assed promise that all will be revealed!”

Chuck shuddered at Yancy’s angry tone. It made him instinctively feel like _he_ had done something wrong, something to upset him — even though he rationally knew it wasn’t his fault at all. He’d talked about this with Stephanie, but… now it seemed Stephanie was partially responsible for abducting Jaz. Chuck didn’t know who to believe anymore.

“I’m pretty tired,” he mumbled.

Pentecost folded his arms across his chest. “Fine. We’ll discuss this again when you have rested.”

“And by then you will have found Jazmine,” Yancy snapped.

“Of course,” Pentecost bit. He turned around, and the triplets followed him back to the main entrance hall.

Yancy let out a long sigh and turned towards Chuck. “I wasn’t just trying to tell him off,” he said. “We really do need some rest.”

When leading him up to the east wing, Yancy kept his hand on Chuck’s lower back, steering Chuck right past his own room.

“I’m not sleeping in my own bed?” Chuck said softly.

“With the PPDC around and Pentecost so hell-bent on taking us somewhere, I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Yancy explained.

Chuck’s skin prickled with a flush of heat. “Ah… okay,” he mumbled.

Was he going to spend the night with Yancy? Just like that, after everything that had happened — after what they talked about before, after…

Chuck felt himself go a little dizzy with how much he wanted to be closer to Yancy, and he slowed his pace a little just so Yancy would have to push him a bit more, leaning in closer to Yancy’s touch. Yancy didn’t respond. But he didn’t push him away, either.

When they arrived at Yancy’s room, Yancy let Chuck inside first, and then locked the door behind them.

Chuck wasn’t sure what to do or what to say, so he just stood there helplessly in the middle of the room, the need to be close to Yancy slowly building and tearing at his own uncertainty about their relationship.

Yancy glanced at him, made eye-contact, noticed. Chuck was sure he noticed. But Yancy didn’t say anything, and instead, went to the dresser at the side of the room, and began to take off his suit. There was an audible sigh as Yancy took off his tie, followed by his jacket and his shoes. Chuck bit his lip as Yancy uncovered more and more of himself. He gasped when Yancy took off his shirt and Chuck dug his nails into his palms. He hadn’t seen Yancy like this for a long time. Such a long time, and so much had changed, and… a part of him wanted things to have stayed the same. Like they were back in the penthouse. Just the two of them, in this safe cocoon, days filled with pleasures of food, sex, movies, games. The world had seemed so far away, then.

Then Chuck had been thrown back into that world, had seen the ugliest sides of it. The violence, the blood, the stink of it all. Being used, over and over, by people who viewed him as barely more than object, people who treated their own pet animals better than they did him.

And then it had just been… one thing after another. He couldn’t keep track anymore. Raleigh had refused to treat him like a pet and then he was told to get better, he’d talked to people, tried to _be_ better. Even Jaz had tried to so hard to help him.

But… but he wasn’t better. Not by a long shot. Here he was, standing in the same room with a man everyone told him had done bad things to him and all Chuck wanted to was to be Yancy’s pet again, to fall to his knees, to earn Yancy’s approval and affection.

And Yancy wouldn’t even let him do that.

“Chuck…?” Yancy’s voice came, soft, but closer than he’d expected. “You’re crying.”

Not a question of what’s wrong, or if Chuck was okay. No command to stop.

So Chuck did nothing, and let the tears fall freely.

Yancy’s arms wrapped around him. Somehow stronger and more gentle than Chuck had ever felt them around himself, and it only made his chest hurt more.

He shook in Yancy’s arms, more tears pushing themselves out, quiet sobs turning into louder ones as Yancy continued to hold him and stroke his hair.

“Owner,” Chuck managed to sob.

He felt Yancy’s head shake against his. “No,” Yancy whispered. “I’m not.”

Chuck’s hands tightened in Yancy’s singlet as another shudder of sadness welled up in him. “But I want you to,” Chuck sobbed. “I can’t do this alone anymore, I just can’t.”

Yancy arms stayed around him, Yancy’s breath solid and steady. “Chuck,” he said after a while. “I’m not your owner anymore. But I’m still here.”

Chuck trembled, still sniffling, even though the worst of the tears were gone for now. His head was starting to hurt.

Yancy unwrapped himself from Chuck and stood back a little, cupping Chuck’s face in his hands, thumbs wiping at Chuck’s cheeks.

“I don’t know what we’re supposed to be, either,” Yancy said. And Chuck frowned, because he wasn’t sure Yancy ever confessed something like that to him. “But I’m not going to leave you. You’re safe with me. I… I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

And Yancy let go. “Now go wash your face, okay? Bathroom is over there,” he said with a nod to the door right of the bed. The same layout as Raleigh’s room, then.

“‘kay,” Chuck managed.

Once he’d made it to the bathroom and wiped his face clean with a towel he looked in the mirror and kind of felt new tears well up in his throat. He looked a mess, eyes all reddened, cheeks blotchy, hair all over the place. And the face staring back at him didn’t seem like quite his own. He looked… older. Different. He didn’t really look into a mirror that often, so maybe he’d just… forgotten what he looked like these days.

Yancy’s words echoed in his mind. _Not your owner anymore. But I’m not going to leave you._

Chuck wasn’t sure what that meant. How he should act. But he liked the sound of it, liked the idea. Maybe he could handle Yancy not being… owner, if it meant Yancy stayed with him.

When he got back out of the bathroom, Yancy was already undressed and in bed.

“Do I… can I, uh…” Chuck stammered. He wasn’t sure how to ask. He wanted to sleep next to Yancy, more than anything; but maybe Yancy would send him to sleep on the sofa in the lounge room, or on a spare mattress on the floor, or…

Yancy flipped back the duvet at the other side. “You can sleep in the bed, if you want,” he said.

Chuck smiled and crawled in, and before he could say anything, Yancy turned off the lights, saying good night.

It was the first time they were in bed together since they’d been separated at the PPDC penthouse. A really long time ago. And that night had been the one Chuck had always remembered, no matter what. How he’d clung to Yancy as Yancy drove himself into him, faster, deeper, almost desperate — how he’d said he loved Chuck, was going to buy off his debt, would take him back to Yancy’s home.

It kind of made Chuck laugh. That somehow, here he was. In Yancy’s bed, with Yancy there, just as he promised. Even though… he wasn’t Chuck’s owner anymore.

Chuck curled up closer to Yancy, nudging his head against Yancy’s upper arm, and held still, not sure if Yancy was going to push him away. But Yancy’s arm stretched up, and then around him, pulling him in closer. Chuck smiled in the dark, and kind of nuzzled into Yancy’s chest until he was comfortable.

“Go to sleep, Chuck,” Yancy murmured, his voice already sleep-slurred.

And Chuck did.

 

 

**Scene 60 - Jazmine**

Kaori, Stephanie and Kennedy walked her towards a grey van that was parked in the grass near the escape tunnel. When Kennedy let Jazmine go to open the back doors of the van, Jazmine felt some of her strength fade, and she stumbled. Kaori and Stephanie’s arms wrapped around her for support.

“Oh,” Jazmine said softly. “I thought I…”

“I’m sorry, little one,” Kaori said. “It takes the three of us to make you strong enough to walk.”

Jazmine sighed. “So I can’t walk.”

Kaori shook her head. “Not on your own.”

“Not yet!” Kennedy chimed in as she walked to the front of the van, opening the door on the driver’s side.

“But it’s not going to be easy,” Stephanie added. “And we need to hurry.” She stepped into the back of the van, sitting down in one of the mounted seats there, still holding Jazmine’s right hand. “Come.”

Jazmine bit her lip. She wasn’t sure if she could trust these people. She felt kind of foolish — it had all seemed like a grand adventure at first, sneaking out of the mansion at night, and she was sure it was going to be fine. But then she’d felt how Kaori had hurt someone — a bright red flare running through the branches of her tree, to someone known both to Chuck and Yancy. The young woman with blue hair she’d seen in the Drift with Chuck. It was bad; there had been blood.

Were these really people she wanted to be with?

And what about dad, and Yancy, and Lee, and Chuck? She left them all behind, just like that. After everything that already happened, after Lee being taken and Chuck being hurt and now… now she was leaving, too. They would be so worried. They would feel bad that she was leaving them. Jazmine's lip trembled. Was she hurting her family by doing this? She hadn't thought this through, she just wanted to get out, and Kaori helped her walk, Kaori understood the pain in her body and where it came from.

She'd been so selfish. After all this time, she'd tried so hard to take care of them, and now she was the one causing them pain.

Jazmine felt her eyes sting.

And  now she was here and she had nowhere else to go. She couldn’t walk, and her wheelchair was left behind — even if she had enough strength to push it through the grass herself. Would dad come for her? Would Yancy or Chuck? Maybe they would be so mad with her they wouldn't come for her at all…

Jazmine swallowed hard, tried to hold back her tears.

But if she stopped here, she’d have to go back — back home, back to her little room. And she didn’t want to, not anymore. She was almost grown up now. She’d seen things in Chuck’s memories that had shocked her, made her sick, made her cry. There was a whole world out there she’d never seen. And somehow, maybe, she had a place in that world. Kaori said she did. Maybe leaving home like this wasn’t safe… but it was still better than being nothing. She used to think that taking on her family’s pain was her purpose. It’s what she had done since she was little. And it was Chuck who showed her otherwise… even if it was also Chuck whose pain made her feel worse.

"Jazmine," Kaori said insistently, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"I… I'm not sure..." Jazmine mumbled.

Kaori's eyes narrowed. "We have to leave, _now_ ," she bit.

Jazmine  felt Kaori’s hand on her back, supporting her; and then her legs as she climbed into the back of the van.

Kaori climbed in as well and closed the doors behind them. She sat down across from Stephanie and Jazmine, and let go of Jazmine’s hand. Jazmine felt another wave of strength leave her and slumped on her seat. Stephanie’s arm wrapped around her, holding her up, and then strapped the seatbelts around her.

“Sorry if these are a bit tight,” Stephanie said. “But we want to make sure you’re safe.”

Jazmine stayed quiet, trembling. She'd made a mistake, she'd been stupid. A stupid, stupid girl. She barely knew these people! And maybe now she wouldn't even be able to go back home, they'd be so mad at her, she let them down, getting into trouble like this.

“We have to take you to safety," Kaori said. "Then we will show you. It will be okay, Jazmine. You’re with your kin now.”

Jazmine cocked her head a little. What did Kaori mean by that? Were they related somehow?

But before she could pose the question, Kennedy started the van, and the sudden vibration sent a jolt of pain through Jazmine. She flinched and scrunched her eyes together. “Aah!”

Kaori’s hand was quick to land on her knee. “This ride won’t be easy on you,” Kaori said. “But you’re strong, Jazmine. Be strong, now.”

Jazmine nodded. She was squeezing Stephanie’s hand, but Stephanie didn’t say anything, and let her.

They were driving for a while, the pain slowly subsiding as Jazmine got used to the hump and bump of the drive. She couldn’t remember ever being in a car before — everything she knew about the outside world was based on movies and television. But she barely paid attention to any of the noises outside. Could she go back home? Maybe if she asked them, they would let her go? But then… then they'd take her back. Or leave her in the middle of nowhere all helpless. She didn't know what these women were capable of, only that they had some sort of… ability that was like her own.

Wasn't that important, though?

Jazmine nodded to herself. Yeah, it _was_. All these years she'd been in so much pain, and now… Kaori and Stephanie and… what was her name… Kennedy? They had answers, right? They knew what was happening to her. They seemed to know how it worked. They helped her walk. Maybe they were really going to help.

Dad and Yancy and Lee, they'd never… never tried to really figure out what was wrong with her. Not for real. And she didn't understand why. She was sick, right? Why did they never try to make her better? Even Chuck had tried.

Jazmine's hands clenched together in her lap. She had to be strong. She wanted to be better.

Then, a loud voice coming from outside the van startled her. She couldn’t hear what was being said,  but they didn’t sound friendly.

“Jazmine,” Kaori said. “There are people outside who are looking for you. They want to take you back home.”

“We have taken you this far,” Kaori went on. “If you want to go home now after all, we will let you go.”

“R-really?” Jazmine stammered. The choice caught her by surprise. She was kind of being abducted, even though she’d come of her own free will… it hadn’t been like she could run away, right? But now they were offering her a choice.

Jazmine pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. Was she really going through with this? She’d leave behind everything and everyone she knew. The safety of her house and her bed. She didn’t know anything about the outside world, not for real; and she couldn’t even keep herself standing.

But she couldn’t go back; she’d just be stuck in the same life that was barely a life, staring at a screen, being only some sort of… object or vessel for other people’s pain. Even if she loved her family beyond a doubt. Even though what she was doing now might hurt dad, and Yancy, and Raleigh, and Chuck. Even though she didn’t know where she was going or what was going to happen. She didn’t want to go back.

She was going to disappoint dad. Yancy. All of them. Tears stung her eyes again, and this time, she didn't try to hold them back. They were going to be sad, or angry, and hurt. And it was her fault.

But… she had to be strong. This was important, she felt it. She knew Kaori and the others had answers, could explain what was wrong with her, could… could teach her, maybe. Didn't she deserve to know? Didn't she… deserve this chance?

“I want to go with you,” Jazmine said, opening her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her voice was shaky, but there was resolve in her tone.  “I’m sure.”

Kaori nodded. “Okay. Then we’ll do what is necessary.”

Jazmine wasn’t sure what that meant either, but she didn’t have to wonder long. There was a knock on the back doors of the van.

“Open up!”

“Stay still, Jazmine,” Kaori ordered. “Try to move and stay quiet as much as you can.”

Jazmine nodded, pressing her lips together again, nearly holding her breath.

There were more loud knocks on the van doors. “I said, open up in here!”

Kaori turned off the light inside the back of the van, and then moved to open the back doors, keeping herself shrouded in darkness.

There was a guard outside, dressed in dark blues, a bulletproof vest and gun in hand. Jazmine wasn’t sure what kind of guard — police, army? Either way, he looked threatening.

The guard peered inside and pointed his gun into the darkness of the van. “Please step outside of the vehicle!” he shouted, already suspicious.

Kaori got up and opened the van’s doors, and moved to step out of the truck but stumbled, falling into the guard. Her hand struck over his cheek and held there.

“Ah, I’m so clumsy!” Kaori said. “Can I help you?”

The guard looked irritated, but didn’t move to push Kaori off. “Gonna need to check the contents of your van, ma’am.”

“And why is that?” Kaori continued.

“We are looking for three fugitives,” the guard replied. “Now please step aside.”

Kaori gestured into the van, keeping her right hand planted on the guard’s cheek. “But, see? The van is empty.”

The guard looked into the van, left to right, looked straight at Jazmine and Stephanie. Jazmine could swear his eyes were staring right into hers, and she dared not move or or make even the slightest sound.

“Zeke? You got trouble over there?” a higher voice shouted from somewhere in front of the van.

“Van’s clear!” the guard named Zeke shouted back. “Let them through.”

“Thank you,” Kaori said with a smile, peeling herself off the guard and climbing back into the van. “You’ve been so helpful.”

The guard shrugged. “Pleasure to serve, ma’am.”

The van doors closed, and Kaori locked them from the inside.

Jazmine stayed quiet, not sure when she was allowed to speak again. Kaori shook her head at her, so she assumed that meant no. Kennedy started the van again, and they drove on, and after about five minutes or so, Kaori coughed. “I think we’re good,” she said.

Jazmine sighed. “So, um… how did you do that?” she asked pointedly.

Kaori smiled. “All of us have certain abilities,” she replied. “I can change people’s minds by touch and suggestion. Make them see things that are not there, or make them not see things that are there. Make them forget, or make them remember.”

“Like with Chuck,” Jazmine said.

“Yes,” Kaori replied. “With Chuck, I had to make him forget something that he did not fully remember. It was a difficult task. Especially with a mind so damaged.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Jazmine mumbled. “I said those words because I wanted to help him, and…”

“I know, Jazmine. It’s okay,” Kaori explained. “I was trying to protect you from him, but you freely chose to take that risk after all. I’m okay with that. Remember, you have a choice. We will help you if you help us. But you are also free to return to the mansion, if that is what you want.”

Jazmine gave a slow nod. It put her at ease to know that Kaori and the others felt that way. Back home, she didn’t really have a choice at all.

She was quiet for a while, until something Kaori said nagged at her. “What do you mean about Chuck’s mind being damaged?”

Kaori folded her hands in her lap. “It’s not the boy’s fault,” she started. “Many people have tried to make use of him, harming him in the process. He has little sense of who he is anymore, of what he wants. His mind is chaos, darkness. He tries to find his way out, still. You tried to help him, and maybe you did, for a while. But it’s not enough.”

“Oh,” Jazmine said, and she fell silent, feeling sad. She’d really wanted to help Chuck, wanted to take his pain away. But it was too much, and she hadn’t been able to deal with it all, couldn’t understand anything she was seeing. And she didn’t like Kaori calling Chuck damaged. Like he wouldn’t be able to get better.

“Can’t you help him?” she asked. “You have these… these abilities, and…”

Kaori shook her head. “This isn’t something we can fix,” she said. “But have faith. Chuck is strong. I think you have seen that yourself.”

Jazmine closed her eyes. Yes — she remembered sensing as much in the Drift. It felt like a heavy, solid core, laying deep inside Chuck’s being, keeping him grounded somehow. Keeping him _there_. The part of him that lasted and stayed when not much else had.

“Yes, I think I know what you mean,” Jazmine said after a while.

“Good,” Kaori replied with a smile.

Just then, Stephanie glanced at her watch, tapping its screen to look at the small GPS map. “It won’t be much longer in this uncomfortable vehicle. We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?” Jazmine asked. The question had been burning on her tongue the whole time.

“At the Anchorage port,” Stephanie answered. “It would be faster to travel by plane, but unfortunately we would risk capture at this point. So we have arranged transport by ship to Kodiak Island.”

“Kodiak Island,” Jazmine repeated. “And that’s where we’ll stay?”

“Yes,” Kaori replied. “That’s where we’ll be safe.”

“So what’s there?” Jazmine said.

“You ask a lot of questions,” Kaori said, but her eyes seemed to light up as she said it, and Jazmine didn’t think she was angry.

“The Academy is there,” Stephanie answered instead. She sighed. “You have to stop being so mysterious, Kaori. The situation is upsetting enough to Jazmine as it is.” She turned towards Jazmine. “You have abilities, just like us. At the Academy, you will learn to control them, so that they won’t hurt you anymore.”

Jazmine’s face brightened. “Really? I can learn that?”

Stephanie nodded. “It’s still a long journey, though. So you should rest.” She wrapped her arm around Jazmine a little tighter, and Jazmine felt warmth seep into her skin.

“What’s your ability, Stephanie?” she murmured.

“I’m a healer,” Stephanie answered. “My touch helps people settle their mind and rest their bodies.”

“That’s nice,” Jazmine whispered, and she was grateful for it, because Stephanie’s touch felt like a warm blanket, and Jazmine was very tired from the long, exciting night. Even without falling asleep, she gradually felt more at ease.

After a short while, Jazmine felt the van stop, and Kaori opened the doors again. Together with Stephanie she helped Jazmine out of the van. They were on a dock in a smaller, abandoned section of the Anchorage port, and a small cargo ship was waiting for them, its walkway lowered. Kennedy climbed out of the driver’s seat.

It was a lot to take in; it was more than Jazmine had ever seen of anything in her entire life. Kennedy walked up to them and as her hand touched Jazmine’s back, Jazmine felt the strength flow back into her.

“Ah, I think I can walk again,” she stammered.

“Yes,” Stephanie agreed. “We should still hurry. By now, they’ve probably figured out the van belongs to us and they’ve let it through.”

Jazmine hadn’t seen a lot of the outside, but she was smart, and she had at least read a lot of books and seen a lot of films. The knowledge she could glean from online had been her only connection to the outside for years. And even in this situation, her mind still worked fast.“Won’t they find the van here and then find the boat?”

Behind her, she heard Kennedy chuckle. “You’re a smart young lady, aren’t you? They won’t find the van when we leave. We have someone to take care of that for us.”

And just then, someone coughed behind them, and the sound of it was strangely familiar to Jazmine. Kaori, Stephanie and Kennedy helped her turn around.

Jazmine gasped. “Dad?”

Dad was standing there. Not even in his usual staff uniform, but his casual clothes, with the suspenders and bowtie. He walked towards her, giving her that faint smile. “Hey, Jazzy.”

Jazmine trembled. It was all becoming too real; it was no longer night, the sun was coming up, and dad was there.

“I’m here to help,” dad explained. “There’s not much time. But as long as the PPDC is here, you’re not safe. Just… what I did, I though I was protecting you.”

“We’ll take on that task from here,” Kaori said with an audible sneer.

There was a sadness in dad’s eyes, and Jazmine felt the hurt course from him to herself. She stumbled on her feet a little. Jazmine stretched out her arms even as Kaori and Stephanie were still holding her, and her father moved to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

“Dad,” she repeated, softly. He was here, and she didn’t understand how, or why. Her hands tightened in his shirt and she felt another sob work its way up through her body. "Dad," she whispered shakily. "I'm… I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I…"

Dad stroked her hair, rubbed her back. "It's okay, Jazzy. My girl. We'll talk again soon. The island isn't that far away."

He pulled back and cupped her face with a smile. "Jazzy, I'm not mad at you. I'm glad. This is your choice, isn't it? You want to go."

Jazmine nodded softly. "Th-they can help. They know what's wrong. But… but I ran away, and people got hurt because of me..."

"Jazmine," dad replied. "Don't feel bad. It was my fault. You got hurt because of me. I thought that… I thought that I could keep you safe. But I was wrong."

Jazmine leaned back a little, confused. "W-what do you mean?"

"Jazzy… I sent your brother to find Kaori myself," dad explained. "I knew Kaori and her friends would be able to help you. Because… your mother, she was with them once. A long time ago. But they had a fight, and she made me promise to keep you safe. To hide you from them." Dad looked up for a second, and Jazmine knew Kaori and the others were listening. "But you got so sick, Jazzy, and then the PPDC came — I asked Kaori and her friends to help." He brushed a lock of hair out of her face. "Maybe this is not what your mother would have wanted for you. But she didn't know you would grow up to become such an extraordinary, beautiful young woman." Dad's brow knotted together. "I'm so proud of you, Jazmine. And I'm sorry. Sorry I didn't help you sooner. You're… you're my daughter. And I love you." He kissed her forehead and pulled her into another tight hug.

Jazmine’s cheeks were wet with tears as she buried her head into her father’s chest. “I love you too, dad,” she whispered.

“We have to hurry,” Kaori said behind them.

Jazmine turned her head towards Kaori and the others, and then back to her father. “Dad… you have to tell them,” Jazmine said. “That I’m sorry for making them so worried, and… and that I love them and that it’s okay and I will see them again and…” Her lip trembled and she wiped the tears from her eyes again. “Lee is in trouble, you have to find him. you have to help,” she went on. “And tell Yancy that it’s… it’s not his fault, and it’s not Chuck’s fault either, I wanted to do this.” Her shoulders were shaking. “I didn’t mean to leave them behind.”

“Ssshh, sssh, Jazzy,” dad said, pulling her close again. “It’s okay. You have to follow your path. We… we all love you, and we shouldn’t have kept you hidden…” He stood back and held her hands in his own. “We are your family, Jazmine. You can always come home to us. Always.”

Jazmine closed her eyes and nodded. “I will.”

 

 

**Scene 61 - Raleigh**

When Raleigh came to, he wasn’t in his usual room. His head hurt, and his limbs felt weird. He tried to sit up, and noticed that he was restrained; not even his head would move. There were several whirring and beeping noises around him. The ceiling was high above him, looking industrial, steel beams with the pipes and wiring exposed, bleak TL-lights shining down.

“He’s waking up,” a metallic voice came, and it took Raleigh a few seconds to realize it was being said over an intercom.

“I can see that,” Herc’s voice came, from inside the room and much closer to him.

“Herc?” Raleigh whispered.

And Herc appeared, leaned over him, placed a hand on Raleigh’s cheek. “I’m here, baby boy. How are you feeling?”

Raleigh squirmed. “Why am I tied up?”

Herc looked away, up and to the side. “Doc wants to run some tests,” he said.

It seemed like Herc didn’t remember what had happened before. Raleigh wondered what Newt had done to him. And hoped it would be reversible somehow, hoped that… whatever it was, Chuck could get his father back.

The intercom crackled, and Newt’s voice came through. “You can unstrap his head.”

Herc let out a growl of assent and his hands moved to the sides of Raleigh’s head, undoing the buckles there. Raleigh rolled his neck from side to side, loosening it up, and that’s how he saw more of the room. There was an IV drip going into his arm, and both he and Herc were wearing monitor devices.

“W-what’s going on?” Raleigh stammered.

“He’s ready, Herc,” Newt said.

“Ready for what?” Raleigh whined, shaking his head to the sides. He had a really bad feeling, and the room he was in was starting to feel like it was closing in on him, a constant drumming in his ears. “I, I don’t feel so good.”

“Muta-C seems to be taking effect,” Newt’s voice came. “Heart rate and blood pressure increasing. Herc, you can start prepping him now.”

Herc leaned over Raleigh again. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “Doc wants me to fuck you bare and come inside you. You can handle that, can’t you?”

Raleigh’s pupils dilated in shock. It was one thing to… when they were in the club in Paris, and even when Herc was taking care of him in their room, but this way… he was tied up, he couldn’t go anywhere. It wasn’t right.

“I, I don’t want to,” Raleigh whispered.

There was a slight vibration from the chair he was lying on and then the lower half of the chair began to separate, slowly spreading Raleigh’s legs apart.

“No, no,” he stammered. “Herc, don’t do this… daddy. Please.”

Raleigh’s legs were moved further apart and then up, until he was lying with his ass spread open towards Herc.

Herc grabbed a bottle from the table nearby and slicked up his fingers, then leaned down over Raleigh as he pressed his fingers to Raleigh's hole. Raleigh trembled, shaking against his restraints.

"Ssshh, baby boy," Herc said. "Daddy's gonna take care of you." He leaned in closer, until his lips were on Raleigh's ear.

"Need you to play along, kid," Herc hissed.

Raleigh's pupils blew wide with shock. _What!?_

"Serum that doc Frankenstein used no longer works on me," Herc continued. "Gonna get us out of here, yeah? But I need you to work with me."

Raleigh nodded slowly. "O... Okay," he stammered.

"All right. Need you to… say, fake having a seizure when I'm... going inside you. Newt won't buy it sooner, kid, I'm sorry. Can you do that for me?"

Raleigh swallowed hard. "Yeah," he gasped. He could manage that, right? Herc wasn't gonna hurt him. He might actually have a chance to get out of here, if Herc would help.

Herc's fingers slid past Raleigh's tight rim, and Raleigh flinched. The entire situation made him incredibly uncomfortable and unhappy, but — but Herc's digits were weirdly familiar, welcomed by his body rather than resisted. Raleigh suppressed a gasp. He didn't know why this kept happening, why his body kept betraying him. He wanted to get out so badly he felt his eyes sting with tears.

"Ssshh, it's okay," Herc murmured, catching the panic in Raleigh's eyes. "Just a bit more, baby boy. I know you can take it." Herc slowly pumped his fingers in and out, eliciting a whimper from Raleigh. Dammit… dammit, this wasn't supposed to feel good. This wasn't okay, he didn't want this…

"Hurry up, Herc," Newt's voice came over the intercom.

Herc sat up and glared towards somewhere out of Raleigh's field of vision. He figured maybe there was a window or something, where Newt was looking in.

"Kid needs to be prepped right," Herc growled back, before glancing back at Raleigh.

Only then Raleigh noticed that Herc's expression was so much different than what he'd been used to. Herc's eyes looked… weary. Sad. Nothing like the steeled, confident look they'd held when they first met or when they were together in Herc's room before.

It was that sad look, more than anything, that allowed Raleigh to believe Herc's words, and he gave Herc a slow nod.

"There you go," Herc murmured, turning his attention back to Raleigh. He tucked a third finger to Raleigh's hole, and pushed in. Raleigh shuddered against the intrusion, whined. He had to hang on. He could do this. His hands clenched and unclenched in their restraints as Herc worked his digits further inside.

He felt himself loosen up around Herc’s fingers and whimpered. His body kept responding and he didn’t want it to.

"Well done," Herc said. "Good boy."

Raleigh bit his lip, bracing himself for what was next. How would he fake a seizure? Just scream and spasm? He had no idea. But it had to be believable. And it wasn't really that hard for him to imagine freaking out in this situation. It was taking every bit of his willpower _not_ to freak out.

Herc began to unzip his pants.  "Think you're ready to take my cock," Herc said softly, meeting Raleigh's gaze with those sad eyes, and Raleigh swallowed again to suppress his own tears. Why was any of this happening to them? Why the hell were people like Newt and Hannibal making them do this?

Herc guided the tip of his dick against Raleigh's hole. Then gave Raleigh a decided nod. "You watchin' this, doc?" Herc growled, keeping his eyes locked with Raleigh's.

"Yeah, yeah," Newt's voice came. "Readings are good. You can start fucking him."

An expression of regret and guilt flickered over Herc's features for a second, and then he moved his hips forward, slowly pushing inside.

"Now," he hissed.

Raleigh closed his eyes, gathered all the fear and anger and desperation he felt, and screamed as he forced his body to tense up, pushing Herc out, bucking up over and over against his restraints, letting his eyes roll back into his head.

He frightened himself.

"Newt, fuck, there's something wrong with the kid!" Herc shouted. "Get yer ass over here!"

Raleigh was starting to see spots, pouring all of his energy into shaking and spasming, even foaming at the mouth.

He heard a door slam, footsteps, and then Newt's face was hovering over him.

And then it wasn't.

Herc grabbed Newt and threw him across the room, instruments clattering to the floor, and Raleigh heard a sickening thud as Newt's head hit something.

Herc's hands moved swiftly to undo Raleigh's restraints and handed Raleigh a hospital gown as he sat  up.

"Are you good to move?" Herc said as Raleigh hopped off the chair.

"I think so," Raleigh mumbled, still a little in shock.

"Good," Herc said. "Gotta get to the armory, first. Not far from here." He grabbed Raleigh's hand.

"Herc--" Raleigh started, filled with questions, but Herc cut him off.

"No time, kid," Herc said. "Stay close." He started to walk towards the door.

Raleigh saw something move out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't process what it was. "Look out!" Raleigh shouted, seeing it move towards Herc —

And then Herc was knocked forward, his hand snapping out of Raleigh's grip, and he slammed down onto the floor.

"You didn't really think this through, huh, Herc?" a voice came. Newt's voice, mostly, but there was something incredibly different about it, something that made Raleigh's stomach churn, made him feel nauseous. Terrified.

Raleigh turned around. Someone, _something_ was standing there that resembled Newt, and yet didn't. Its eyes were purple, its skin was blue and scaly, and its mouth opened to reveal jagged fangs and blue luminescent saliva dripping down the corners. And from the creature's back emerged what Raleigh could only call   _tentacles_ , which were reaching down to Herc, wrapping around Herc's limbs and neck, lifting him into the air as if he weighed nothing.

The creature's eyes flickered to Raleigh, and it let out a sickening laugh. "How do you like the face of our Masters, Raaaaleigh?" it hissed, still unsettlingly sounding like Newt.

It lifted Herc higher, a tentacle tightening around Herc's throat, and Herc spasmed in its grasp. It was that which shook Raleigh out of his state of shock.

"You're killing him!" Raleigh cried out.

"That would be a shame, wouldn't it," the creature hissed. "I suppose I could let him live." And it glared at Raleigh pointedly.

Raleigh understood the creature's implication. "What… what do you need me to do," he whispered.

"What I brought you humans here to do," the creature said. It looked up at Herc, shaking Herc's body in his grasp. "You hear that?"

Herc's eyes opened a little. "Fuck you," he growled.

"Now, now," the creature replied. "Maybe later." One of his tentacles came up to caress Herc's jaw, slithering over Herc's mouth. "I'm sure you're very curious to find out what these appendages can do…"

Herc convulsed in the creature's grasp.

"Get back on the chair," it hissed to Raleigh.

Raleigh trembled. "I… I don't want to," he whispered.

The tentacle around Herc's throat tightened again and Herc's hands came up to try and push it off, desperate for air. Herc made a choking sound, his legs kicking uselessly in the air.

"Stop it!!" Raleigh called out.

"Chair," the creature hissed.

Raleigh trembled, and finally gave in, climbing back on the chair, putting his legs back on the stirrups.

"Good boy," the creature laughed, and a tentacle came to hover over Raleigh, hooking underneath the collar of the hospital gown, and yanked it off him. Then it moved Herc towards Raleigh, keeping the grip on Herc's throat and limbs as he lowered Herc over Raleigh.

"Fuck him," the creature said, and its tentacles writhed over Herc's body, divesting him of his clothes, wrapping around Herc's cock. Raleigh saw how it jumped back to life at the merest touch of the creature's appendage.

"How…?" Raleigh mumbled before he'd caught himself, and the creature laughed again.

"Our Masters' touch is hard to resist," the creature said, and trailed a tentacle down to Raleigh's ass, the tip brushing over his hole.

Raleigh cried out as a jolt of sheer pain and pleasure racked through him. "Aaahh! Wh-what!?"

"Mmmm, tasty," the creature murmured, its appendage writhing against Raleigh's sensitive rim, and Raleigh whined and moaned in response. What the _fuck_ was happening to him?

"Humans are so easy," the creature continued. "So easy to train. Easy to manipulate. Easy to breed..."

"You crazy alien motherfuckers," Herc gritted out after a gasping breath.

" _Fuck him_ ," the creature repeated, and moved to guide Herc's cock to Raleigh's hole.

Raleigh whimpered. "No, don't do this, please," he sobbed, trying to resist the intrusion. He didn't want this, Herc didn't want this. What the fuck was this… this thing? Who were its 'Masters'? Was this a Kaiju?

There was a loud bang on the door. "Newt, you scaly fucker!" Hannibal shouted. "Aren't you fucking paying attention to your radio? We have the PPDC crawling all over our goddamn perimeter!"

The creature — who somehow _was_ Newt, though Raleigh still didn't want to assign the monster any name — swiftly dropped Herc out of its grasp, its tentacles retreating. Raleigh witnessed Newt's skin turning back to normal, its eyes back to human, until there was no trace left of Newt's monstrous appearance.

"What the hell are you," Raleigh gasped.

Newt walked up to him. "I am chosen," he grinned. "For being such a loyal servant to our Masters, they have gifted me with their blood." He ran a hand into Herc's hair. "Such a disappointment," he murmured. "We would give Herc the same gift, had he not resisted the transformation."

Newt's tongue flitted out to the base of Herc's neck, and Herc promptly sagged to the floor.

"We'll have to continue this experiment another time," Newt said, and then his tongue flicked out to Raleigh as well.

 

 

**Scene 62 — Yancy**

He woke to Chuck being draped over him, whimpering softly in his sleep, and Yancy's chest felt like someone had knocked the breath out of him.

He'd forgotten how beautiful the boy looked like this, asleep, nothing but trust in Yancy's presence.

And as if Chuck knew Yancy was watching him, his eyes opened, sleepily looking at Yancy, and smiling.

"Hey," Yancy said softly.

"Mmmm," Chuck murmured, and then he moved to sit up a little.

"Did you sleep okay?" Yancy asked.

Chuck smiled. "Better than I have in a long time," he replied.

Yancy understood that. Probably better than anyone. He wished the boy didn't need him anymore. One day, he wouldn't. Yancy was sure of that. But he had to stay strong; had to keep his distance, no matter what. No matter how lovely Chuck looked right now.

It was Chuck who leaned down and pressed his lips against Yancy's.

"Chuck--" Yancy started, breaking the kiss and pushing Chuck back.

"I know," Chuck said. "You're not owner anymore. I know." He leaned down and kissed Yancy again, and this time, Yancy didn't push him off.

Chuck's arms wrapped around him, but the kiss didn't turn into something more; it simply stayed Chuck's lips working against his, slow and soft, no tongue.

Finally, Chuck sat back and smiled. "That was nice," he mumbled.

Yancy stared up in wonder for a minute, and then sat up as well. "It's probably late in the afternoon now," he said. "We should check downstairs."

"I hope they've found Jaz," Chuck said.

Yancy nodded. “Yeah.”

  
  


After they had both taken a shower and switched into fresh clothes, they made their way downstairs to the lobby. The first thing Yancy noticed was there was a whole lot less PPDC personnel around. In fact, there was only one guard posed at the front door, and he began to mutter into his radio as soon as he spotted Yancy and Chuck coming down the stairs.

“Hey, you,” Yancy said as he walked up to the guy. “Where’s Pentecost?”

“On his way, sir,” the guard grumbled.

Yancy folded his arms. “So what’s the news? We haven’t been woken up. What of Jazmine?”

“Not at liberty to say, sir,” the guard replied.

Yancy frowned. “The hell does that mean,” he mumbled.

The guard just gave him a hopeless look. The guy was probably some grunt following orders. Useless.

“Let’s find Tendo,” Yancy said to Chuck, who nodded and followed him.

About fifteen minutes later, it was clear that Tendo wasn’t anywhere in the mansion. None of the staff had seen him come or go — it’s like he simply vanished in all the commotion. And he wouldn’t pick up his phone, either. Yancy grumbled. This day was not getting any better. Just then, his phone rang again — Pentecost.

They met again in the lobby, Pentecost accompanied by the Wei triplets and two guards.

Yancy wasn’t going to beat around the bush.

“Where’s Jazmine?”

Pentecost folded his arms behind his back. “We were not able to retrieve her, and we do not know her current location,” he started.

“What!? You can’t be se—” Yancy began, but Pentecost cut him off.

“They managed to elude one of our roadblocks heading to the city,” Pentecost continued. “But we gathered enough camera footage there to continue our search.”

Yancy clenched his fists. This wasn’t happening. First, he’d lost Raleigh, and now Jazmine — and it was all his fault. He’d brought Chuck to the mansion and put Raleigh at risk. He brought Kaori over and now she had taken his sister. And Chuck barely managed to stay sane after everything he’d been through — and Yancy had been the one to start it all. Even Mako had gotten hurt because of him

He truly was a terrible person.

“My chief of staff is also missing,” Yancy said, glaring at Pentecost. “It seems there’s nothing but a fucking mess since you people arrived here.”

Pentecost’s gaze darkened. “It was you who led us here in fear for your family, Mr. Becket,” he pointed out.

Yancy drew a hand over his face. He couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t want to. He was a fuck-up, and everything he tried to do only seemed to make things worse.

“We believe your chief of staff, Mr. Tendo Choi, may have aided Kaori Jessop in her abduction of Jazmine,” Pentecost continued.

“... What?” Yancy replied, bringing his hand down.  Why the hell would Tendo... but then Yancy remembered Tendo’s comments about the PPDC. Maybe Tendo had been working with Kaori the whole time? “Why would you think that?”

Pentecost reached into his pocket, and handed Yancy a letter and a data card.

The letter had Tendo’s handwriting, and was addressed to Yancy.

_Jazmine is safe. She was not abducted; she wanted to leave, and it was our intention to protect her from the PPDC. They are not to be trusted. They have lied to you from the very beginning about who they are and what they do, and as long as you associate with them, I cannot trust you with Jazmine’s whereabouts._

_Jazmine has recorded messages for you, Raleigh and Chuck. You can find them on the data card._

“We found this in the grey van we suspect was used by Kaori Jessop, run into a ditch well east of Anchorage city,” Pentecost said. “There was no trace of Mr. Choi.”

Yancy ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered. “What a fucking mess.”

He looked at Chuck, who had stayed very quiet during the conversation about Jazmine. “Chuck,” Yancy started, and he handed him the data card. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you because of Jazmine. Keep this safe.”

Chuck bit his lip, cradling the card in his hands. “Okay,” he said softly.

Yancy glanced up at Pentecost, another pressing question making its way into his consciousness. “How is Mako?”

“Recovering,” Pentecost replied promptly. Yancy scoured the man’s face for a hint of worry, but found none. Wasn’t Mako like… a daughter to him? How could he stay so calm?

“I want to go see her,” Chuck piped up.

Pentecost turned to him. “I will take you to her, Pet,” he said. “If you will agree to come with me after.”

Yancy narrowed his eyes. “First you’re ordering him, now blackmail? Chuck. You don’t need to listen to him.”

“I no longer need to listen to you, either,” Chuck shot back.

Yancy’s brow went up in shock. Chuck had never so blatantly talked back to him. Then his expression softened; this was good. And he could tell Chuck not to trust the PPDC after everything they had done to him, but Yancy could say the same of himself.

"You're right," Yancy conceded. "And if you go with Pentecost, then I will go with you." He needed answers. He needed to rescue Raleigh, and Chuck's father. And if Tendo was right, and the PPDC had been lying to them — not very surprising, considering their track record — there was only one way to find out.

 

 

**Scene 63 - Chuck**

Mako looked pale. Paler than he'd ever seen her. Yancy was taken aback too, although he tried not to show it.

"Mako," Chuck said. They'd been at odds for a long time, but — Mako had saved him. Twice. He wished he could help her now.

Mako opened her eyes, dark and glassy from sleeping. An IV drip went into her arm, feeding her fluids, and the occasional dose of morphine. That's probably why she was so sleepy.

"Chuck…?" she mumbled, trying to sit up. 'Y... Yancy?"

"Don't move too much," Pentecost's voice came, loud and booming. "Lay down, Mako-chan." And Mako sagged back, her body obeying him long before she consciously registered the command.

"She has lost a lot of blood," Pentecost said. "But no vital organs were damaged. The wound has been stitched up. She needs to rest now, and will be able to move about in a day or two."

"Mako… you tried to protect Jaz," Chuck said softly. "Thank you."

He glanced behind him, and Yancy looked… weird. Upset. Like he was trying to hold something back.

“Get well soon," Yancy said tersely.

Mako gave them a weak smile before her eyes closed again and she drifted off to slumber.

Pentecost escorted them out of the room.

"It's time, Pet," he said to Chuck. "In order to rescue Raleigh, I will need you to come with me." He turned his gaze towards Yancy. "You as well, Mr. Becket."

Chuck nodded. Because despite everything Raleigh had told him, Stephanie had told, despite everyone's attempts to 'help' him, it was Pentecost's commands that put him at ease. Pentecost addressing him as a Pet that made him feel proud. The fact that he was needed to rescue Raleigh made him feel stronger than he had in months.

He was starting to wonder what this meant. He wasn't sure, but he knew he wanted to follow Pentecost to wherever he wanted to take Chuck.

He knew what Tendo had said about the PPDC; he knew everything the PPDC had done to him. But it paled in comparison to what Hannibal had done to him, and what Hannibal might be doing to Raleigh _right now_.

Chuck didn't have much reason to trust the PPDC, but he didn't have much reason to trust anybody else, either. Pentecost offered him a purpose, a goal. And he needed a purpose. He was a pet; he needed to be of service.

Simple, really.

"Understood, Marshal," Chuck replied.

Yancy gave him an odd, frustrated look.

Chuck tried to ignore it. Yancy wasn't his owner anymore. He could decide for himself now.

"Then we head to the air strip," Pentecost said. “You can view Jazmine’s messages through one of the consoles on-board.”

Mako was staying at the military hospital at the base already, and it was only a small drive to the air strip, where a large private PPDC jet was waiting for them.

"This is how we arrived here," Yancy offered.

Guards, road blocks, private jets. The PPDC was definitely more than just a fancy prostitute service.

“Inside, gentlemen,” Pentecost gestured.

They boarded the plane, and inside the Wei triplets were waiting for them. Pentecost moved into the cockpit and left them in the passenger compartment. Chuck smiled. “Hey, guys.” He’d seen them at the mansion, but they hadn’t really gotten the opportunity to talk. He wasn’t sure how long the flight would take. But it would be nice to catch up.

“Hey Chuck,” Cheung said, with Hu and Jin chiming in. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m —” Chuck paused. Had anyone else actually bothered to ask him that question? “-- doing okay,” he finished.

“Can’t wait to show you where we’re going,” Hu said.

Chuck sat down on the seat closest to them and buckled his seatbelt. “So where _are_ we going?”

Cheung smirked. “You’ll see.”

Chuck glanced at Yancy, who was sitting in a chair across the wide aisle, looked more than a little uneasy and annoyed. And for that, Chuck wanted to fall to his knees, crawl up to Yancy, put his head in Yancy’s lap, and nuzzle and lick and plead until Yancy felt better.

But he couldn’t, not anymore. Yancy had made that clear enough. It made Chuck angry somehow. After everything he had gone through, not even Yancy allowed him to do what he did best, be who Yancy trained him to be. It was that anger that spurred him on, now. And weirdly enough, it made him feel stronger than he had in a long time.

The jet plane’s engines whirred to life, and the plane began to move, riding swiftly onto the runway.

Chuck sucked in his breath. His chest felt tight. He hadn’t been on a plane in a long time. But more importantly, he was leaving Anchorage. Leaving the Becket mansion. It had been a safe place for him for many months, and yet… he felt no qualms about leaving it, felt almost excited. The mansion had become a sad place for him, one where he’d gotten back unwelcome, dark memories.

When the plane took off and the ground began to fall away, Chuck felt oddly free.

After the seatbelt light went off, Chuck pulled up the console. “Yancy,” he said softly, looking to the side. “Do you want to watch Jaz’ video?”

Yancy nodded at him and stood up, coming to sit down next to Chuck. “Yeah.”

They put on headphones, and Chuck slid the card into the console’s card reader.

An audio file showed up.

“Oh,” Chuck said. “I thought it would be a video.”

“Perhaps she didn’t want to take the risk,” Yancy replied. “That maybe we could figure out where she was going.”

“I guess,” Chuck said softly.

 

“ _H.. hey. It’s me. I don’t have a lot of time so — I just wanted to say, I love you. I love you, Yancy, and Raleigh, and Chuck. I’m… I’m sorry I made you worry. I’m sorry if I hurt you. But… but this is something I have to do._

_I’m a big girl now, going on an adventure! *laughs*_

_I will try to be strong and positive like that. Even though bad things are happening. Because Yancy, you have to save Lee, okay? When I come back I want to see him._

_Chuck, I… I’m so happy to have met you. I have seen… well… you know. And it hurts, but… it’s not your fault. You are strong, Chuck, I know you are, and when I come back to see you I want you to be able to smile honestly! Then so will I. That’s our promise to each other, okay?_

_Yancy, you’re my big brother. You’re always looking out for us, working so hard all the time…. and you know you did wrong things but you have a good heart. Of course you do, because you are my brother. So… when I come back I want you to smile too, because I want you to be happy._

_Lee. I… I don’t know where you are right now but if you are hearing this then you are safe again. I love you, Raleigh. I will miss your smile the most so you better show it off when I’m back!_

_I… I have to go now. I… I miss all of you so much already._

 

The recording stopped.

“Miss you too, Jaz,” Chuck whispered, and he swiped the back of his hand at the corners of his eyes. Yancy wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in.

“Me too,” Yancy said softly.

The flight took hours and hours, and for the longest time there was nothing but blue underneath, an endless ocean.

"We're flying over the Pacific," Chuck said after a while. He hadn't gotten _that_ much of an education after his sixteenth, but he knew what the map of the world looked like. And if they were flying to the south, they'd be seeing mountains. He looked to his side and caught Yancy's gaze, and Yancy nodded at him in agreement.

Then Jin said something in what Chuck assumed to be Chinese.

"Uh, what?" Chuck inquired.

Hu looked back and grinned. "He said, _we're going home._ "

 

* * *

 

Chuck didn't remember falling asleep. But when he woke up, they were no longer on the plane. He was lying in a bunk bed, and as his eyes focused, he noted he was in what mostly resembled the kind of military quarters he’d seen in movies; the walls gray-brown and metallic, the room decorated only with the sparsest necessities. And there was nobody else there.

He climbed out of bed and noted how his head felt like it was full of thick cotton. Whatever they used to get him to sleep, it wasn't out of his system yet. The PPDC drugged him again. Chuck had thought he was important somehow, but they were still treating him like... like cargo to be transported. Also, he was naked except for a pair of blue boxers, which weren't his.

He found the bathroom three steps from his bed and was greeted by a stack of clothes, towels, bottles of shower gel and shampoo, toothpaste, even a razor and shaving cream. Everything you'd need to get by, day-by-day. Everything in blue-and-white colors, stamped with the PPDC logo.

What the hell was going on?

The shower was pleasantly hot, the shower gel smelled neutral, the towels almost crackling dry rather than fluffy. He kind of liked it.

He stepped out of the shower and caught his reflection in the full-length mirror when the condensation cleared up from it. He'd walked past it before, but now he paused to get a good look.

He was pale, and gangly. Skinny, even. He thought he’d put up some weight during winter, but it hadn’t been much after all. There was some sparse hair on his arms, legs and chest, thicker around his cock.

Chuck’s fingers traced the scars on his skin. They were all small ridges and bumps, hardly visible unless you were looking carefully, but he knew them all. Cuts and burn marks, mostly from Scott; a few scratches from Hannibal’s clientele that hadn’t healed; some nicks from a john in Seattle who had thrown him onto the ground in an alley and into a pile of broken glass.

It's stupid how he remembered that so specifically, whilst a lot of what happened at Hannibal's was still a blur. Like a nightmare he remembered better but not in the right order, disjointed, out of context.

And on his back, the white PPDC tattoo. It had faded slightly over time and needed touching up. Chuck wondered if they would.

Chuck grabbed blue cargo pants first, put them on and secured them on his waist with the dark blue belt. Then he pulled on the blue singlet shirt. They’d at least bothered to approximate his size, but it still felt like the clothes were too big; almost like they didn’t even make it in a smaller size and this was it. The belt was on its tightest metal loop, the shirt clinging awkwardly to his shoulders. Looking in the mirror again, Chuck couldn’t help but feel he was supposed to look more impressive in something that appeared to be a military uniform.

There was a blue button-up shirt, same fabric and color as the cargo pants, complete with PPDC logo on the buttons and lapels, and name tag on the jacket.

_Ranger C. Hansen._

And just then, a pair of dog tags jingled out of the jacket pocket and fell on the floor. Chuck bent down, picked them up. Same name, with a number he didn't recognize, and his birth date.

There was a vague memory of his dad wearing a uniform like this, all blue. His dad pulling off his dog tags and putting them in a storage box. After he left the RAAF, his father didn’t seem to care much for military appearances.

Chuck put the dog tags on.

They felt cold on his skin as they slipped under the collar of the singlet and he pulled them up to lay over the fabric.

He put on the shirt, which just like the singlet clung to his chest and arms at odd angles. Finally, the combat boots. Chuck raked a hand through his hair and sized himself up. The uniform still looked strange, like it didn’t quite fit him. And his face… his eyes looked lost. Haunted, even to himself. Chuck turned away from the mirror and shook his head. At least the tags looked cool.

The door to the room wasn't locked. That was a surprise. He'd gotten accustomed to people knocking him out and locking him up in places.

Chuck walked into the hallway. Which was empty. But there was noise in the distance, and he followed it until it got louder, through various hallways, following arrows that indicated 'Main Hangar', whatever that meant.

Finally, he walked up a flight of stairs, his boots clacking loudly on the stainless steel grating.

And into the main hangar.

It was huge. It was the biggest space he'd ever seen. The ceiling was… at least a mile up. And it was busy. People everywhere, carts going back and forth, orders being shouted. And machines. Jets, helicopters, armored trucks. Military shit.

"I am glad to see you're awake, Ranger," Pentecost said behind him.

Chuck spun around and blinked slowly, still not sure he was fully awake. Definitely not sure why he was no longer addressed as Pet.

"Marshal. What is this place?"

Pentecost, for the very first time since Chuck had met the man, actually smiled. Came to stand next to Chuck, and gestured to the entire hangar.

"Ranger Hansen. Welcome to the Shatterdome."

  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yancy and Chuck get introduced to the Shatterdome, and we learn a bit more about the nature of the Kaiju.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit it only took like three months to write this chapter. I had a lot of stuff going on in my life... I'm sorry! But here it finally is! Thanks SO much for sticking with me this whole time. I know WIP fics like this are a tough bet for many people. For me, it's your continued support and feedback that keeps me going after all this time. So please let me know what you think! <3

 

**Scene 65 - Chuck**

 

"The Shatterdome," Chuck repeated, trying to wrap his lips around the world. It sounded impressive, but what did it mean? "This is some kind of… military base?"

 

"Not entirely," Pentecost answered. "Come with me; it is time to brief you and Yancy fully."

 

Yancy was here? Chuck felt a little relieved.  He followed Pentecost across the main hangar, into a corridor and a flight of metal stairs, into a large control room full of consoles and screens and people tapping away at them. When Pentecost entered the room they looked up, but didn’t salute him — something Chuck kind of expected, given the military vibe of, well, everything around here.

 

“Clear the room,” Pentecost said, and the order was promptly followed, personnel getting up from their seats and leaving.

 

And now that the crowd had left, Chuck spotted Yancy at the other end of the room, standing in front of a big window that looked out on the hangar.

 

“This is LOCCENT Mission Control,” Pentecost said, walking forward towards the window as well. “The tactical heart of the Shatterdome.”

 

Yancy turned around. “Chuck.”

 

Chuck nodded. “Yeah.” He kept his distance, not sure what was expected of him in these surroundings. Not sure what happened to Yancy. He wanted to ask if Yancy had been drugged and taken here just like him, or whether Yancy knew more about where they were and how they got here; but he wasn’t going to say anything with Pentecost standing between them.

 

Pentecost tapped a console at the window, and the glass turned dark before flaring up with a display of the PPDC logo.

 

Pentecost folded his arms behind his back and turned around. “Mr. Becket, Ranger Hansen,” he began. “Where you are now, and what we call the Shatterdome, is the largest base of operations for the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps, otherwise known as the PPDC.”

 

Chuck blinked fast a couple of times. He thought the abbreviation meant the _Pacific Pet Discipline Club_. Defense Corps? He glanced at Yancy, who had his face drawn into a steeled frown. Mostly to mask his confusion, Chuck knew.

 

“The PPDC is a global organization that focuses on protecting the entirety of the Pacific coast and the countries bordering on it from the threat of the Kaiju,” Pentecost went on. He tapped the screen, and the PPDC logo made way for another symbol, a blue, monster-like mask of some sort.

 

Chuck froze. “I know that, that…” he pointed at the screen.

 

“It is likely you have seen it at the Bone Slum, Hannibal’s base of operations in Hong Kong,” Pentecost said, interrupting his own audibly-well-rehearsed speech.

 

Chuck’s mouth fell open. “Is… is that where I was held before? Where Raleigh is now?”

 

“Yes,” Pentecost answered matter-of-factly.

 

“Is that where we are now? In Hong Kong?” Yancy asked, and thus also answering Chuck’s question about Yancy’s knowledge of the place.

 

“Yes, we are,” Pentecost replied. "Now, if you will follow me to the K-Science lab."

 

Pentecost led them through the corridors of the Shatterdome until they ended up in a large room that definitely met the description of a laboratory; all stainless steel tables, the kind of elaborate glasswork Chuck remembered from his highschool biology classes, several microscopes, and a large array of what could only be described as _specimens_ : unrecognizable organic tissue kept inside yellow and green liquids inside tubes and containers of various sizes.

 

"Dr. Gottlieb?" Pentecost called.

 

A few seconds later a short, skinny man in a labcoat appeared, wobbling forward with a cane. "Marshal," he said, and he sized up Chuck and Yancy. "What can I do for you?" Chuck noticed the man had a vaguely German accent.

 

"Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, I'd like to introduce you to Ranger Chuck Hansen and Yancy Becket," Pentecost said, gesturing between them.

 

Gottlieb's eyes lit up. "Becket? From JaegerTech?"

 

"You've heard of my company?" Yancy said.

 

"Most certainly," Gottlieb replied. "Human-robot interaction, quite interesting. An unintended side-effect of the xenomutation you have called _drift compatible_. Should you choose to work with us, we may—"

 

"Doctor," Pentecost said firmly.

 

Chuck barely understood a word Gottlieb said. Xeno... what?

 

Pentecost sighed. "Can you show us the skeleton, Doctor?"

 

"Ah, yes," Gottlieb replied. "Stored safely in the fridge unit." His eyes darted around the room. "I must apologize for the mess. My predecessor evidently had _no_ knowledge of proper laboratory hygiene or tissue sample categorization, leaving this… abominable situation behind after defecting—"

 

" _Hermann_ ," Pentecost snapped.

 

"—Right. The skeleton."

 

They followed Gottlieb to the far end of the lab to a pair of large steel doors, where the doctor punched in a code and the doors slid open with a hiss, a blast of cold air hitting them from inside the room.

 

"Ambient temperature rising from 4.0 degrees Celsius with 0.1 degrees per second," a feminine computer voice beeped up.

 

"Yes, yes, we know," Gottlieb muttered, leading them inside. Chuck was grateful for the PPDC gear he had on; it was comfortable and surprisingly warm. Yancy shivered in his suit.

 

Chuck spotted the skeleton before Gottlieb had pointed it out. Set on a large table stored inside a transparent glass case lay the bone remains of an animal much larger than human; it reminded Chuck of the dinosaur skeletons he'd seen in a museum once. Not a T-Rex, of course. More like the size of a black bear or a buffalo or something.

 

Gottlieb stood next to the case and made a broad sweeping gesture with his arm. "This, Ranger Hans and Mr. Becket, is a Kaiju."

 

Chuck frowned, not really understanding. The skeleton looked kinda weird, sure, with the bones that had… claws on them, and the way its head looked like it had an axe blade on top of it.

 

"We named it Knifehead for its distinctive skull blade," Gottlieb went on.

 

"That thing isn't —" Yancy started. He frowned and folded his arms in front of his chest. "—I've never seen an animal like that."

 

"That's because animals like this do not exist on our planet, Mr. Becket," Gottlieb replied.

 

Chuck's eyes widened. "Uh… what?"

 

“Kaiju do not come from this world," Pentecost repeated. "We do not know what their plan is or for how long they have been here. Our earliest records indicate their presence in countries in and around the Pacific from the start of the 20th century.”

 

Chuck gaped. Yancy was trying hard to not do the same. _Aliens?_

 

“We know that Kaiju come in different forms. We know that they are a lower class within their species, and that they serve a higher class of beings dubbed the Precursors. And we know that they have infiltrated our society and are manipulating it on a global scale for a purpose we believe is at odds with the continued freedom and survival of humanity.”

 

Chuck glanced at Yancy, who was shaking his head. “This isn’t for real,” Yancy mumbled.

 

Chuck knew it was.

 

“I have seen one of them,” he said. “Not a… Kaiju, but the other. A Precursor… I guess.”

 

Gottlieb had been silent the whole time, but now he perked up. “Explain.”

 

“The Bone Slum, I guess,” Chuck went on. “I… I thought it was a mask, the face I saw. It didn’t look human. It... did something to me.” He clenched his fists.

 

Pentecost’s gaze darkened. “What did it do, Ranger?”

 

Chuck turned away, staring at the floor. “It… gave me a tattoo,” he mumbled. “Under my foreskin, underneath the head.”

 

“You never told me this,” Yancy said.

 

Chuck’s gaze flew up. “I only remembered after drifting with Jaz.”

 

Pentecost frowned. “I will have you examined. And… Chuck, this is why you are here.” He stepped forward, and completely uncharacteristically, placed his hands on Chuck’s shoulders. “If what you say is true, then you are the only human to have ever laid eyes on a Precursor. This was no accident. You are important to them.”

 

Pentecost dropped his arms and folded them behind his back. “When your father first came to me, I did not know,” he went on. “And when your uncle brought forward Mr. Becket, we still did not suspect.” He glanced at Yancy. “But the result of bringing you two together left no room for doubt; you, Chuck Hansen, are uniquely suited to _serve_ the Precursors. And now it seems they have indeed marked you as such.”

 

Chuck frowned. “I don’t understand.”

 

“The Precursors have introduced a _xenomutation_ into the human gene pool.” Gottlieb filled in, and looked to Yancy. “Mr. Becket and his company call it Drift Compatible. It makes humans _compatible_ with their alien physiology. In time, they harvest these humans and... use them.”

 

“Are you saying that’s what I am? Xeno… mutated?” Chuck said.

 

Pentecost nodded. “Yes. And due to your uncle’s machinations, you were torn from our care—”

 

“That what you call ‘care’?” Yancy interjected. “Blackmailing me into training him against his will?”

 

Pentecost ignored him, but answered the question anyway, keeping his eyes locked with Chuck’s. “Chuck. The Precursors would have taken you, had we not. And what you experienced at the Bone Slum is only their method of _preparation_. It is your training that allowed you to survive, and it is the PPDC tracker implanted in your tattoo that allowed us to rescue you.”

 

Chuck was starting to feel numb, trying to take in all this new information. He didn’t know where to start.

 

But he couldn’t deny it was his pet training that had dragged him through.

 

"The PPDC may use unorthodox methods," Pentecost said. "But we are dealing with unorthodox enemies. Monsters." Pentecost nodded to Gottlieb.

 

"Sir," Gottlieb argued.

 

"Show them," Pentecost ordered.

 

"Very well. I hope you both have a strong stomach," Gottlieb replied. He walked to the wall at the back of the fridge which had small rectangular doors on it in four rows and five columns. He opened one on the third row from the top, fourth column from the left, and pulled out the stainless steel tray within. And the body that lay on top of it. At least, Chuck assumed it was a body. He'd never seen a morgue in person, but this looked like the sort of thing he'd seen on crime TV shows.

 

Gottlieb unhooked the silver-colored tarp that was covering the body, and his gaze flickered to Pentecost in uncertainty. Pentecost's face was grim and he gave Gottlieb a small nod.

 

Gottlieb pulled back the tarp.

 

Chuck felt the bile rise up in his stomach and covered his mouth. Yancy's face turned pale.

 

"This is what is left when the Precursors are done using humans," Pentecost said. His voice for the first time during their briefing sounded shaky, nearly breaking. “His name was Sergio d’Onofrio. One of our first Rangers.”

 

The corpse was thankfully cleaned of blood, but it was horrifically mangled. Jaw unhinged, hanging from the skull by mere threads of tendons; limbs nearly torn from the torso; and the lower abdomen was unrecognizable. Chuck couldn't even tell the biological sex of the person.

 

"Jesus..." Chuck mumbled, and then his eyes rolled away as he doubled over and threw up in the corner.

 

"Thank you for that, Marshal," Gottlieb said with plenty of sarcasm.

 

Yancy was quick to bend himself over Chuck, wrapping Chuck in his warmth and stroking his hair. "It's okay," Yancy said softly. "Breathe. That's it."

 

Chuck leaned into Yancy, his touch as comforting as ever, and kept his eyes shut. He didn't want to catch another glimpse of the horror show that Gottlieb had pulled out of the wall. He only opened  his eyes again when he heard the tray slide back and the door close.

 

"Can we get out of this place," Yancy said grimly.

 

Pentecost nodded to Gottlieb, and the body before them vanished.

 

“Wh-what?” Yancy stammered.

 

“A hologram,” Pentecost explained. “Ranger d’Onofrio’s body has since long been put to ground.”

 

“But he did look like that,” Chuck mumbled against Yancy’s shirt.

 

“Yes,” Pentecost answered simply. “Now follow me.”

 

Pentecost led them back into the lab, the fridge door closing behind them.

 

"Thank you for your assistance, doctor," Pentecost said, giving Gottlieb a nod. And with that, Pentecost walked them through the Dome again, until the area started to look familiar to Chuck. Seemed like the halls of the quarters he'd woke up in. When Pentecost brought them inside a room with a few decorations — a katana and a scroll with Japanese markings on it, and two pools of water at the sides — Chuck figured it might be Pentecost's office.

 

"Your training is not complete, Chuck," Pentecost said, standing between the pools. "We have trained you to serve as a pet, and Hannibal has trained you to serve the Precursors. Now, here, in the Shatterdome… we want to train you to kill them."

 

_What_?

 

"... Kill them?" he stammered.

 

"You will be a soldier. An assassin. The PPDC's weapon against the alien incursion. They will consider you a slave, and you will be the blade that strikes them down. This is what we can offer you," Pentecost said. "This is why we have brought you here."

 

Chuck blinked. "Offer?"

 

Pentecost nodded solemnly. "You are free to go, if you want. Knowing what you do now. We have not given you a choice before. A wrong we cannot right. But you have the choice now."

 

"I… I gotta think about this," Chuck mumbled. He wasn't sure he even remembered a word of everything Pentecost had told them. He felt like crawling into bed and never coming out.

 

"Understandable," Pentecost replied. "You are free to move about the Shatterdome. You may want to seek out the Wei triplets in the Kwoon."

 

Chuck's face scrunched up. More words he didn't understand. "Uh..."

 

"Your briefing is over, Ranger," Pentecost said more firmly. "You are dismissed."

 

And Chuck got the idea. "Ah, uh. Yes, sir." He glanced at Yancy, who hadn't said anything for a while now. He gave Chuck a small nod, but his facial expression was unreadable.

 

Chuck took a deep breath, turned around and left LOCCENT.

 

**Scene 66 - Yancy**

 

As soon as Chuck left, Yancy's expression turned into a scowl. "This is a great deal more than you told me earlier this week," he said.

 

"You were and are on a need-to-know basis, Mr. Becket," Pentecost said evenly.

 

_Aliens_. Fucking extraterrestrial monsters. And that corpse—

 

"You want to turn Chuck into a soldier," Yancy started. "You're just using him for your own… war, or whatever the fuck this is."

 

"The boy has the choice," Pentecost repeated.

 

“Which you gave to him less than a minute after terrorizing him,” Yancy shot back. Pentecost’s little show of manipulation had not been lost on him. And he was not going to let the PPDC get away with it.

 

“Chuck needs to understand what would—”

 

“Bullshit!” Yancy shouted. “Don’t you dare — don’t you think I know all the tricks myself? How fear works on him? Show him something like that and then promise the PPDC will make it all better?”

 

Pentecost’s eyes narrowed. “You underestimate him,” he said evenly. “When you see the place we rescued Chuck from, you may yet see how strong he is to have survived it.”

 

Yancy frowned. “That doesn’t change anything about what you just did.”

 

“It _was_ necessary to show you,” Pentecost said firmly. “And we _will_ give Chuck the time he needs to make a choice for himself. And the same goes for you.”

 

"The hell does that mean?" Yancy gritted out.

  
"If it has not occurred to you yet, Chuck is not the only one who is a xenomutant. Everyone who is, as you put it, _drift compatible_ is. This is what Scott Hansen's interrogation revealed: the Becket and Hansen families were seeded with the Precursor's mutation genes. We previously assumed this to be random. But it appears your families have been bred, _groomed_ , manipulated in ways far more insidious than we thought." Pentecost's gaze darkened further. "At this point we could even believe that your uncle's abuse of you was no coincidence, just as Scott's actions were instigated by the Precursors."

 

Yancy staggered back. This — "No," he stammered.

 

The thought that everything that had happened to his family, all the shit he'd gone through, his father, his mother, himself — protecting Raleigh from his uncle — that it was all part of some fucked up plan? "No way."

"All the evidence we have collected leads to this conclusion," Pentecost said grimly. "And so we believe that your brother as well as Herc Hansen were captured as a part of this plan, and may very likely be… prepared or tested together."

 

Yancy's stomach started to get upset again, his chest heavy, and he shivered. "... What does that mean," he gasped.

 

"Like you and Chuck, we suspect Raleigh and Herc share a similar compatibility." Pentecost explained.

 

Yancy paled. Raleigh and Chuck's _father!?_ After the two of them — christ. He pulled a hand over his face. "This is so fucked up," he mumbled.

 

"Mr. Becket," Pentecost started. "It would be optimal if you and Chuck are a part of Operation Lion's Den."

 

"The raid on Hannibal's place?" Yancy frowned. "We're not soldiers."

 

"You do not have to be," Pentecost replied. "Our forces are capable enough to penetrate the defenses and get you inside. But we do not know what condition we will find your brother and Herc in. Freeing them will go faster if they come willingly rather than needing to be sedated."

 

Yancy folded his arms across his chest. "And that's where you want our cooperation."

 

" _Need_ your cooperation," Pentecost corrected him.

 

Just then, Pentecost's radio beeped up, and he brought two fingers to the small device on his ear. "Yes?"

 

Yancy tapped his foot, waiting.

 

"Very well," Pentecost said after listening to the report for a good few minutes. "Can she handle the flight here?"

 

Yancy perked up. The conversation was about Mako. He still wasn't sure what their relationship was, professionally, privately; but he still got shivers from remembering how she'd lain on the floor in a pool of blood, and he wanted to see her again, talk to her. And… more, when she healed. He wasn't sure if Mako felt the same way, though he suspected, given her reaction in the flight to Anchorage. And then there was Pentecost, who might not take too kindly to Yancy getting closer to her.

 

"Understood," Pentecost finished, and moved his attention back to Yancy. "Mako has recovered enough to return to the Shatterdome," he said, and to Yancy's surprise he seemed visibly relieved. Pentecost did care deeply for Mako, he realized, even if he didn't return her feelings. "She will be here tomorrow morning," Pentecost went on. "I suppose you will want to spend time with her."

 

Yancy's brow went up in surprise. Pentecost knew? "Yes," he eventually admitted.

 

And to Yancy's complete bafflement, Pentecost actually flashed him a smile. "I raised her and trained her, Mr. Becket," he said. "She could not hide anything from me if she wanted to, and her affection for you is quite obvious."

 

"Um," Yancy stammered. "You're okay with this?"

 

Pentecost sighed. "Mako, as she grew older, began to desire from me what I couldn't give her," he said. "I would be glad if she found this with you."

 

This day was full of shock and surprise, Yancy thought. Pentecost had just about given his tacit approval for whatever might develop between Yancy and Mako.

 

Yancy opened his mouth to say something when there was a loud knock on the door of Pentecost's quarters. Pentecost frowned. "Yes?" he called out.

 

The door opened to revealed a PPDC officer, clutching a portable console. "Sir. Hannibal has engaged our perimeter forces," he said. "It's begun."

 

Pentecost's expression darkened further, and he gave the officer a nod. He tapped his earpiece. "Initiate Shatterdome-wide broadcast," he said, and waited several seconds. Yancy heard the hidden speakers in the room crackle.

 

"This is Marshal Stacker Pentecost," Pentecost began, and Yancy could hear his voice echo through the hallway outside. His voice was probably audible throughout the entire 'Dome. "Operation Lion's Den has entered Phase 2. You all have your orders. This is our first major strike against the Kaiju. I do not need to remind you why we are doing this. Many of you are here because you have lost friends and family to our common, alien enemy. Today we show them our teeth, soldiers. Today, we show them humanity will not sit still as they corrupt us generation by generation, taking who and whatever they want from our planet. Today, we take a stand, and we say: no more! _Commence the second attack!_ "

 

Yancy could hear the cheering reverb through the steel walls, and he couldn't help but feel a bit strengthened by Pentecost's speech as well. This side of the man was new to him. He knew Pentecost to be intelligent, secretive and manipulative; and certainly in charge of the PPDC, when he thought it was a pet club. Not a leader, or even in this sense — a military commander. He wondered if Pentecost's projected image would hold up with his actions. Would they actually be able to free Raleigh and Herc Hansen?

 

"What do you need me to do?" Yancy asked. It seemed there was little room for doubt, now that the operation was in full motion. Raleigh was at the Bone Slum, and many people with guns were surrounding him. Yancy knew one thing: he had to get Raleigh out.

 

Pentecost met his gaze and nodded. "Once Phase 2 completes, a small team including the Wei triplets, Tamsin, you and Chuck will infiltrate the complex," he explained. "You must be prepared to follow Tamsin's orders without question. Can you do this?"

 

Yancy gritted his teeth. He didn't look forward to being ordered around by Tamsin — he hated her for what she had done to Chuck, for how she had manipulated him and lied to Mako.

 

"I trust her even less than I trust you," Yancy said plainly. "But for Raleigh… yeah. I'll obey her orders. That what you want to hear?"

 

Pentecost smirked. "At least you are honest," he said. He tapped his ear piece. "Tamsin." He waited. "Yes. I am sending Yancy your way." He glanced back at Yancy. "You'll find her in the medical bay, a corridor away from the K-Science lab."

 

Yancy blinked. "I am free to move about?"

 

"Consider it a show of our trust," Pentecost said.

 

Yancy shrugged. There wasn't much Pentecost could do that would make him stop being wary. But he needed to save Raleigh. And he was going to do whatever it took.

 

**Scene 67 - Jazmine**

 

The journey on the boat had been boring, and took a long time. Jazmine had fallen asleep and had woken up several hours later, her joints and back aching, her head throbbing. Most of it had gone away with drinking tea and taking a painkiller, but she still felt exhausted. She'd never moved around as much or seen and heard as much in her life. At least she was grateful for not getting seasick.

 

Kennedy stayed at her side most of the time, with Kaori and Stephanie both keeping watch. Jazmine got the impression nobody was supposed to know they were even on the boat, but any questions she asked were quickly deflected.

 

Finally, just as she had started to truly lose her sense of time and it seemed like they would be on the sea forever, a shudder went through the boat, followed by a loud rumbling noise.

 

"That's the anchor being dropped," Kennedy explained. "We're at Kodiak Island."

 

Getting off the ship happened so fast Jaz got disoriented, being carried off and spun back and forth between large crates of cargo until they were down the plank and back onto land. She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt solid rock beneath her feet, but her body swayed back and forth awkwardly, like it still expected to find balance in a rocking environment. Jazmine felt more at ease when Kennedy and Stephanie each took her hand, and she felt Kaori's touch on her shoulder.

 

"It's not far now," Kaori said, and she was right; they led Jazmine away from the cargo to a big Jeep in the nearby parking lot at the dock, and Kennedy went behind the wheel again.

 

Jazmine didn't register much of her surroundings; her thoughts were still with her father, the messages she'd left for Raleigh and Yancy. Even now that she was here, and she couldn't go back on her own at all, she still wondered if she made the right decision. She hoped they really wouldn't be angry with her, or too sad; she couldn't stand hurting her family, not after she had taken so much of their pain in the past. And that worried her too; would they be okay without her? Maybe it wasn't fair that she had had to bear their hurt, but what if they needed her for that, what if they couldn't cope now that she was cut off? Maybe she really should go back after all, to make sure that they were okay without her…

 

Jazmine was so lost in thought Stephanie's voice startled her.

 

"We're here."

 

They helped her out of the car and they stood in front of a large, stone building resembling something like a museum or a library in the Greek architectural style Jazmine had seen in history books. But rather than shining white, the stone pillars were grey and mossy, and from the outside the building looked half abandoned. Jazmine could see the triangle slab resting on the pillars had some sort of inscription, but it was barely legible, and not in a language she knew.

 

Kaori came to stand next to her, and smiled. "Look more carefully," Kaori said.

 

Jazmine frowned, not quite understanding.

 

"Close your eyes," Kaori directed, and Jazmine did. She felt Kaori tug her forward, and she followed. Kaori placed her hand over Jazmine's eyes.

 

"You can see, now," Kaori said, and removed her hand, prompting Jaz to open her eyes.

 

The building's stone was all white now, the paveway clear of moss and dirt, and she could see lights and movement inside. The inscription was clear, and read:

 

_natum de tenebris, in umbra crescit, in lucem surgere_

 

Jazmine pointed up. "What does that mean?"

 

"Born in darkness, grow in shadow, rise in light," Stephanie answered. "It is the Sirens' motto."

 

"Sirens?"

 

Kennedy came to stand next to Jazmine as well, touching her shoulder lightly. "It's a lot to explain, Jaz," she said with a smile. " _We_ are Sirens. You, too."

 

Jazmine perked up when she spotted a young girl walking out of the building and down the steps towards them. She was about Jazmine's height, had a round face, dark-brown eyes, very short black hair and a smile on her face. She was wearing a bright yellow shirt, orange tee and baggy jeans. Her face was flushed, her apple-round cheeks lighting up red. She walked up to Jazmine and bowed forward.

 

"Hi, you're Jazmine, right? I am Pang So-Yi," the girl said. "You're going to study with me and Yuna."

 

So-Yi gave a nod towards the entrance and that's when Jazmine spotted another girl with fierce dark eyes and a nearly shaved bald head, glaring at both of them — in fact, mostly glaring at So-Yi. The girl was wearing a slim black tunic that clung to her shape, along with white slacks that ended halfway her calf, grey slippers underneath. There was a marking just above her left ear, like a tattoo, but Jazmine couldn't make out what it was.

 

So-Yi rolled her eyes. "An Yuna is _difficult_ ," she sighed loudly.

 

Yuna's eyes flared up and she trotted down the stairs. "Don't badmouth me, you incompetent loser," she snapped to So-Yi, before affixing her gaze on Jazmine and sizing her up.

 

"I am An Yuna. So-Yi is _useless_ ," she said with a toothy grin. "We've heard a lot about you, Jazmine. I recommend you ask me any questions, as So-Yi is wont to give you a pointless, confusing answer."

 

Jazmine looked from one girl to the other and had trouble containing her laughter. Rivals, she thought. But clearly they _did_ care about each other. She caught Kennedy's look beside her and the amused sparkle in Kennedy's eyes told Jazmine they were thinking the same thing.

 

"So-Yi and Yuna are your age," Kaori said, walking around to step between the two girls. "You will indeed study together."

 

"Let's get inside," Stephanie said, nudging Jazmine forward a little.

 

They walked up the steps and inside, and Jazmine realized that the building looked quite small from the outside, as their footsteps echoed through the stone hallway and murmuring voices surrounded them. She realized this must be the Academy Stephanie had talked about. It smelled musty, and other smells Jazmine couldn't quite place because she'd never sensed them before; moss and wood and stone, as if they were in an old forest.

 

Then, at the end of the entrance hallway as the stone columns fell away and they walked into a large round hall, Jazmine spotted a wheelchair at the doorway. Instinctively she knew it was meant for her.

 

"I won't be able to walk around here," Jazmine sighed.

 

"We're sorry," Stephanie said. "We can't be around you all the time."

 

"Will I… ever be able to? By myself?" Jazmine whispered, her voice suddenly shaky.

 

Kennedy rolled up the chair to Jazmine. "We don't know," she said. "But if you study hard and gain control over your abilities, I'm sure it will help!"

 

Jazmine sank into the chair and bit her lip. "Okay," she said softly.

 

"You should come with us," So-Yi said. "We'll give you a tour."

 

Yuna pushed So-Yi aside. " _I'll_ give you the tour," she said huffily. "So-Yi can't even remember where the library is."

 

Again, Jazmine had to stifle a chuckle. And she was happy — happy that these girls were here, that she could make new friends, that she wasn't alone. She still missed her family so much it would make her cry if she thought of them too often, but now she also felt a little bit more hopeful, knowing that she wouldn't have to do everything on her own or rely on the older women to help.

 

"I want to see the library," Jazmine said. "Can you take me there?"

 

Yuna's face burst into self-satisfaction, and So-Yi rolled her eyes. "The planetarium is _way_ cooler," she said.

 

Jazmine smiled. "I want to see that next!"

 

Pretty soon the girls were off, So-Yi on Jazmine's left, Yuna's on her right. And to Jazmine's surprise, neither of them bothered to push her chair, letting Jazmine roll forward on her own strength. And that made her feel happy, too.

 

Maybe things wouldn't be so bad at this new, strange place on the island.

 

**Scene 68 — Chuck**

 

Chuck walked out of the lab and into the hallway, and almost right into the Wei triplets. He was going to assume that they had been waiting for him.

 

"Marshal give you the speech?" Jin said.

 

Hu scoffed. "Probably showed him the corpse, too."

 

Chuck blinked, frowning. "Yeah, he did..." He shuddered involuntarily at the recent memory. Even if it had turned out to be a hologram, the gruesome display was grafted into his memory, and he still felt kind of sick.

 

"What you need is some exercise," Cheung said, flashing a smile that to Chuck didn’t seem very genuine.

 

Chuck shrugged. “Sure.”

 

The Weis nodded to each other and gestured for Chuck to follow them. They walked out of the lab hallways, up the stairs and back to the large hangar, across it and down several stairs again, until they found themselves in front of a set of large red doors with Chinese on them.

 

“What does it say?” Chuck asked.

 

“Kwoon,” Jin replied.

 

“It’s Chinese for training hall,” Cheung added. “Martial arts.”

 

“Oh,” Chuck replied, not sure what else to say, or what to expect.

 

Hu opened the door, and they stepped inside.

 

The Kwoon was a large square room, the center lined with sturdy, thick mats, the walls lined with an array of martial arts equipment — Chuck spotted large wooden staffs, wooden swords, clothes, gloves, wooden training dummies and more.

 

The Weis grabbed a staff each and flashed their grins at Chuck.

 

Chuck stood by the side, arms hanging uselessly at his side. He was sure the three of them had been ordered to show him the room and whatever demonstration they were going to give.

 

Without much of a starting signal, the triplets began to move. Slow at first, but precise, coordinated. Chuck narrowed his eyes. They were not making the same moves, but yet seemed to be in sync. He jumped at the first loud thud of Jin and Cheung’s wooden staffs colliding, and after that the pace picked up, Chuck’s eyes growing wide to follow the fight.

 

He didn’t quite know how to describe it other than beautiful. The triplets moved as one and yet separate, staffs clashing, spinning, breaking apart and coming back together, swinging towards each other only to be dodged, swirled around and brought back down. It was an intricate dance of bodies and the weapons spun between them, increasingly fast paced, the footsteps and drums of the staffs creating their own rhythm. Chuck felt his cheeks flush, bit his lip, excited by the display. He hadn’t seen anything like this outside of _movies_. Never, it seemed, did one triplet get a hit on the other; the swing or thrust was always dodged, countered, played back, only for that counter to be dodged again.

 

The dance was broken when Jin’s staff hit Hu squarely in the abs. Hu gasped out a curse in Chinese before falling down to one knee. Cheung shook his head and set his staff down, lightly leaning on it.

 

“Cheater,” he muttered towards Jin.

 

“Liar,” Jin shot back with a grin.

 

At that, Chuck wondered if Hu had anticipated the move, and allowed it.

 

“Dogs,” Hu laughed.

 

Jin smirked and barked at him.

 

Chuck paled.

 

The three of them flitted their eyes towards him, and Chuck swallowed hard. They remember, he thought. Not only that, but — they’d had the same training as him. They were dogs. Like him.

 

The distance between him and the triplets was palpable. They were staring him down, almost challenging him, daring him to say something, do something — and, Chuck realized, looking down on him with contempt.

 

They were dogs who’d learned to fight. And Chuck was… useless. Compared to them, compared to what he just saw. And he didn’t understand _what_ he’d seen.

 

He shivered, felt the impulse in his hands and knees. The triplets were leaning against each other and on their staffs, still looking at him with a kind of arrogant amusement. Chuck remembered the few weeks they had worked out together — just simple cardio and muscle building in the gym in the PPDC building. They had been friendly to him then, but not overly so; Chuck had always felt like he was intruding upon them. Just like he felt he was intruding now.

 

“I’m— I’m sorry,” he stammered. And he did what he had been taught to do when someone else displayed dominance over him. He sank to his knees and folded his hands in his lap, bowing forward, awaiting command.

 

He heard Hu chuckle, and Cheung scoff. Steps getting closer.

 

“Get the hell up, Hansen,” Jin said.

 

When Chuck looked up, he spotted the other two rolling their eyes. He got up to his feet, obeying Jin’s order more than anything else. Orders, he knew. Orders were comfortable. It would help if more people here were ordering him around, Chuck thought. He longed for Yancy’s presence, suddenly and fiercely, for Yancy to naturally take charge so Chuck could follow. He bit his lip.

 

“You’re a Ranger here, not just a pet,” Jin went on.

 

Chuck swallowed. “I don’t know what that means,” he said softly.

 

Hu and Cheung shared a look. Jin grinned and stepped closer, towering over Chuck with wooden staff still in hand.

 

“It means that you’re gonna learn how to fight,” Jin said. “How to _kill.”_ He enunciated his point by lifting the staff and smacking it back on the floor with a loud thud.

 

Hu walked towards them and grabbed Chuck’s jaw, pinching lightly. Cheung snuck around them, moving behind Chuck. “So that when your pretty face gets close to the Kaiju—” Hu started.

 

Chuck flinched when he felt Cheung’s hands on his hips and breath on his ear. “— And you let them _fuck you_ and _use you_ and think you’re a _good_ little slave— “ Cheung hissed in his ear. Chuck shivered, quickly becoming more anxious as the triplets stalked around him.

 

Jin leaned in closer and wrapped a hand around Chuck’s throat, nails digging into the skin — sharp enough to feel, but not enough to mark. “— You can hit them where it hurts the most.”

 

“You can tear them apart,” Hu whispered, tightening his grip. “Rip out their guts. End them.”

 

“And they will never see it coming,” Cheung hissed, teeth on Chuck’s ear.

 

They pushed themselves off him, bursting into loud, bitter laughter, and retreated, walking out of the Kwoon still cackling. Chuck fell to the floor, gasping.

 

_let them fuck you_

 

_you can tear them apart_

 

The triplets words echoed in his mind, bouncing back and forth, clamoring, deafening his other thoughts until there was only one.

 

_Is that why I’m here?_

 

**Scene 69 — Mako**

 

Mako sucked in her breath as her feet hit the hangar floor. This was her first time in the Hong Kong Shatterdome. The flight had been uneventful yet tiring, and the sleeping pill she’d taken to bridge the flight still gave her a lingering drowsiness. And yet it couldn’t dampen her excitement at finally arriving here; not even the mixed feelings she had towards sensei.

 

Because sensei had always trained her alone, away from all this. She had never known, perhaps suspected there was more to the PPDC, but this — she had not learned of it until her return, after failing to find Chuck. Sensei had told her himself what she had already learned from Tamsin, and more. Had told her about the Shatterdome, and pets, and her role in all of it, and Chuck’s role.

 

She’d always thought sensei was indulging her with martial arts training. Now she understood that he was preparing her for something greater, something much more important.

 

Mako pulled her tablet computer out of her messenger bag, tapping through the map of the facility to find sensei’s office —

 

“Mako.”

 

Her heart skipped a beat at that familiar, and she looked up. Yancy.

 

Her mind flashed back to a blurry, painful memory that smelled like blood, Yancy’s presence a force she could cling to when she had felt life bleed out of her.

 

It reached further back to when they were on the plane towards Anchorage, and Yancy’s hand had lifted her chin up to meet his gaze—

 

Just then a sharp jolt of pain shot up from her side, her stitched-up wound still aching and protesting her movement, and she winced visibly.

 

Yancy’s arms were around her in barely a second.

 

Mako closed her eyes. She felt Yancy take a deep breath — take in her scent.

 

“Mako,” Yancy repeated. “I’m glad you’re okay. When I saw all that blood…” His voice trembled slightly.

 

“The doctors say I will fully recover,” Mako said.

 

Yancy let go a little, leaning back and running a thumb over her cheek. The small gesture sent a flutter through her chest and her eyes searched for Yancy’s.

 

“They said… the way the knife was placed, it missed exactly all vital organs,”  Mako went on. “And it was a shallow wound.” She closed her eyes for a second. “Kaori… could have killed me. She did not.”

 

Yancy let out a hissing breath. “She meant to disable you,” he mumbled.

 

Mako nodded. And pushed Yancy back a little. “I have to go see sensei,” she said.

 

Yancy’s hand wrapped around her wrist. “You don’t have to go see him,” Yancy said, a growl to his voice that sent shudders down her spine.

 

“What do you mean?” Mako said, trying to keep her voice level.

 

“Pentecost approves of us,” Yancy explained, cupping Mako’s jaw with his other hand. “He has given you to me.”

 

Mako froze in Yancy’s grasp, and then clenched her fists. Her eyes flared up with pure anger as she yanked herself out of Yancy’s hands and pushed him back. “I am _no one's_ to _give_ ,” she spat out. She grit her teeth, biting back the sadness that had welled up in her with the realization that sensei didn’t want her anymore, had… had apparently handed her off to Yancy. No, no way. She did not want this. And the smug expression on Yancy’s face as he had spoken those words —

 

Yancy was staring at her, stunned and evidently surprised that Mako had physically pushed him back.

 

She glared at him. “You have no right to claim me,” she hissed. “No matter what… what we might feel. Or what happened. That is _my_ choice, not sensei’s!” And without saying another word she turned away, strutting further into the hangar, as far away from Yancy’s presence as she could. She was going to find sensei and ask for an explanation. This was infuriating, and demeaning. Simply because she had these desires, because she was trained as a pet — it did not mean she could just be passed around without her own permission.

 

Several minutes later Mako stormed into sensei’s office.

 

He turned around and to her it felt like she ran into a storm, his presence looming over her.

 

“S-sensei,” she stammered. It felt just like when she had come back to the PPDC after running away. But this time, she was not about to throw herself at sensei’s feet. Mako steeled herself and stepped closer, forcing herself to meet sensei’s dark gaze.

 

“<<How… how could you? Give me to Yancy? Is that all I am to you, some… some toy to give away!?>>”

 

Mako’s lip trembled. She hadn’t wanted to spill it all out like that, but around sensei, she couldn’t… not. He could see right through her, read all of her. There was nothing she could hide from him even if she wanted to, and any guard she tried to put up fell away as soon as she reached out to him.

 

Sensei came to stand in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. His gaze softened.

 

“<<Little Mako>>,” sensei started. “<<I do not know what Yancy said, but I most certainly did not _give_ you to anyone. You are your own. >>”

 

Mako dug her nails into the palm of her hand. It was what she thought she had wanted to hear, and yet, it wasn’t.

 

“<<I… I thought I belonged with you,>>” she said softly, turning her gaze away.

 

Sensei lightly grabbed hold of her chin with thumb and forefinger and turned her head back to face his, his dark eyes gazing into her own. He blinked, slowly, thinking, and then a sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

 

“<<I could never give you what you wanted from me,>>” sensei said, his voice timid, _vulnerable_.

 

Mako swallowed hard. Sensei had never spoken to her like this and he was speaking words she knew to be true and yet did not want to hear. She felt the tears sting at the corners of her eyes and she willed them to stay there, but they wouldn’t, and her cheeks soon turned wet.

 

“<<I have given you what was necessary to train you,>>” sensei went on. “<<But… you are as a daughter to me, Mako.>>”

 

All air left Mako’s lungs in a pained gasp, and sensei pulled her into a tight embrace.

 

This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. She must still be dreaming; yes, that was it. She was ill and delirious from pain medication, morphine, still in the hospital. Any minute now, she would wake up.

 

Sensei had never… it had been Sasha who had shown her, taught her how to please men and women alike. And Mako cared deeply for the bleached-blonde Russian woman, but not in the way she felt for sensei, and for Yancy. Even Chuck, in some moments. It was men she reacted to.

 

Sensei had taught her how to obey, how to be strong. And when not to be. How to read an owner or client, how to bend to their will and how to push back if that is what they craved. Had taught her to understand her own craving for pain and how to transform it and wield it as a pet. And after that had trained her in his own style of mixed martial arts. She had thought it to be useful for self-defense; now she knew its true purpose, and why sensei had insisted on it.

 

And there was an essential part of every pet’s training. To fully, perfectly break their will, their ego, and to be remade; and it wasn’t sensei who had done this for her, either. It had been Aleksis, with Sasha’s guidance; a time Mako barely remembered, only that it was dark, and she had come out of it fundamentally changed in ways she could not name, only sense.

 

Until now, she hadn’t realized. How much sensei had avoided these parts of her training. How he had always been a teacher, not a Master — not even when she had started calling him that.

 

“Sensei,” she said softly.

 

Sensei let go of her, returning his hands to her shoulders.

 

“<<I am proud of you, Mako>>,” he said. And then his usual, familiar stern expression returned to his features, he let go of her and stepped back, and Mako almost felt relieved for it.

 

“<<You and Yancy Becket are drawn to each other. That is obvious. I will not stand in the way of this.>>” He folded his arms behind him once more, and then turned away from her.

 

Mako found it hard to breathe.

 

She closed her eyes, willed herself to take a deep breath, and opened them again.

 

“<<Please excuse me>>,” she said, bowing deeply, and left sensei’s room.

 

Once outside, she knew she had to find Yancy again and talk to him — but her stomach was rumbling, and according to the map on her tablet the cafeteria was close.

 

Familiar laughter echoed towards her and as she turned the corner, the Weis were sitting at one of the tables. Or, on the tables, feet on the benches. Their plates of food piled up in the middle, picking bites off each other’s shared meals.

 

It was Jin who spotted her and shouted something in Cantonese at her. They knew full well she didn’t speak it, so she simply answered with a Japanese greeting. The three grinned in unison.

 

The Weis were home here; they’d grown up in the slums in Hong Kong, and unlike Mako or Chuck, had not been coerced into sex work. They’d been going up Hong Kong’s prostitution food chain when sensei had plucked them away from the streets, right before Hannibal Chau could snatch them up. And after the images of the first raid a year ago, they knew full well what worser fate they had escaped. They’d since flourished in their training, Mako could see. Whilst she had been desperately searching for Chuck, the three of them had been honing their skills. In nearly imperceptible ways, they seem to move as one, their bodies attuned to one another, the movement of one affecting the position of the other two.

 

“Mako-chan,” Hu said in a teasing tone of voice.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Mako said matter-of-factly.

 

“Miss Mori,” Cheung corrected them, but his tone was unmistakably playful.

 

Mako rolled her eyes and walked past them. She could feel their eyes on her as she moved to the self-serve area, but there was no fresh food, and the cafeteria kitchen looked closed. Thankfully there was also a row of vending machines, and she picked out a bottle of water and a pre-packaged sandwich. She walked back to the triplets and sat down at the other end of the table, turning somewhat to face them as she began to silently unwrap her food.

 

It was Jin who broke the silence.

 

“You look good,” he said.

 

“I have been better,” Mako shot back.  It was hard to forget the still aching stitches in her side, which sent jolts of pain through her torso if she stretched this or that way too far.

 

“We were worried, kitten,” Cheung chimed in.

 

At that, Mako flushed a little. They’d never — when had she acquired this nickname? She regarded them again. They had changed a lot since their time in Los Angeles. They almost seemed like… a pack. But they were not threatening her. Instead, it was like they were… inviting her.

 

Mako scooted a little closer to them.

 

“How are things here?” she inquired.

 

The three of them smiled. “It’s good to be home,” Jin said.

 

“Better, now. Busier,” Hu added.

 

“If you forget about the trash that got dragged in, too.” Cheung said.

 

Mako narrowed her eyes, took a bite from her sandwich, winced at the poor use of fake wasabi on it, chewed and swallowed. “Are you talking about Chuck?”

 

They scoffed in perfect unison.

 

“Little pup.” “Probably wets himself.” “You’d think he got all the potty training he needed—”

 

Mako opened her mouth to defend Chuck, but then thought better of it. Perhaps it was not a cat’s business to get in between dogs. It seemed like a silly thought to her. But facing these three, considering their different pet training, the metaphor seemed apt.

 

There was a loud gasp behind her.

 

“Ah, speak of the—” “ — done crying yet, Hansen?”

 

Mako turned around.

 

Chuck looked impossibly skinny in his oversized PPDC uniform, pale and uncomfortable, and whilst he didn’t look like he was crying, he didn’t look great either.

 

“Come sit with us,” Cheung said.

 

“Mako,” Chuck mouthed.

 

She gave him a small nod.

 

He sighed and walked to their table, ducking his head a little, shoulders hunched.

 

Mako’s gaze flew from Chuck to the triplets and back.

 

Like dogs, indeed.

 

But she was a cat, and she didn’t care for all this posturing behavior. She turned away from the triplets to face Chuck again and patted on the table surface for him to sit down.

 

“How are you, Chuck?” Mako asked.

 

“I’m —” his gaze darted to the triplets and back, “— okay.”

 

His stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly.

 

“You’re hungry,” Mako said. “Have you eaten anything yet?” She plucked the second sandwich out of its package and held it forward to Chuck.

 

“I was… nauseous earlier,” Chuck mumbled. He reached out. “Thanks—”

 

“Don’t eat that,” Jin said.

 

Chuck froze. Mako narrowed her eyes again. How had she gotten caught up in some juvenile conflict between this bunch? Still… she keenly observed Chuck, and then the triplets. And waited.

 

Chuck lowered his hand and then returned his arm to his side. His stomach rumbled again.

 

Jin grabbed a dumpling from their combined plates and threw it on the floor towards Chuck. “Whining pups eat off the floor,” he jeered. Hu and Cheung burst into laughter.

 

Chuck’s face flushed, his eyes darting to the food on the floor, back up to the triplets, to Mako, and then back to them. His shoulders were tense, his jaw trembling.

 

Mako parted her lips to speak up. This had gone on long enough; Chuck needed his strength, needed to eat. She remembered how she had taken care of him after the hotel, and felt protective of him now.

 

Chuck leaned down, grabbed the dumpling and dusted it off. He took a careful look at it, shrugged and then took a big bite out of it, keeping his eyes on the triplets as he chewed and swallowed.

 

When he was done, he flashed them a genuine smile. “Thanks for the food. I was starving.”

 

Mako tried to hide her grin. _Well done, Chuck,_ she thought. Her gaze flickered to the triplets and they had quieted down, keenly observing Chuck. Then Jin grabbed another dumpling and tossed it right towards Chuck, who was caught off guard, his arm flailing out too late to catch the food. It fell on the floor and when he bent down to grab it, Cheung moved forward lightning-fast, placing his steel-toed boot between Chuck and the dumpling. He bent down to pick it up off the floor.

 

“A pup who can’t play catch?” Hu said, derisive tone thick on his tongue.

 

Cheung kicked the food to the other side of the cafeteria.

 

Mako saw Chuck’s shoulders hunch again, tension working its way back into his shoulders. Chuck seemed to open his mouth to say something when Hu and Jin got up off the table and Cheung spun around to join them.

 

“Good night, Miss Mori, pup,” Jin said, and the three of them inclined their heads forward in sync before sauntering off. Leaving the rest of their food.

 

Chuck’s eyes met Mako’s, but he didn’t say anything.

 

Mako shrugged and nodded towards the triplets’ plates. “Go for it,” she said.

 

Chuck gazed longingly at the pile of dumplings and rice. “You sure that’s okay?” he said softly.

 

“It’s just going to get thrown in the trash otherwise,” Mako replied.

 

“But — they didn’t say it was allowed,” Chuck mumbled.

 

Mako narrowed her eyes. Was that how Chuck figured… that he had to obey them now? She wondered if the Weis were acting like this just to be shits to Chuck, or if maybe they were under sensei’s orders.

 

“They didn’t say it wasn’t,” Mako said. It certainly would not have stopped her. But she was a cat.

 

She got up. “I’m going to find Yancy,” she said. Something about the whole exchange with the dogs annoyed her and she needed to talk to Yancy to straighten things out. But as she got up Chuck seemed even smaller and lonelier. Mako stuck out her hand.

 

“Grab a few dumplings and come along,” she said.

 

Chuck let out a sigh of relief at Mako telling him what to do, and swiftly obeyed, grabbing two handfuls of pastries and followed her out of the cafeteria.

  
  


 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck faces Mako and Yancy getting closer with each other, and gets more involved with the operation to save Raleigh and Herc, which triggers several flashbacks to his time at Hannibal's dungeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is actually here! I am so, SO sorry for this huge-ass hiatus. I have been dealing with some intense stuff in my personal life and am not even able to write on a computer during the week. However, I got the hang of good old analog writing equipment (they're called 'pen and paper', apparently; terrible for editing, but you never forget to save) and here it is -- the 13th chapter of Rain! It's probably full of inconsistencies. Eh. I know you're here for the mental anguish and of that I have plenty. <3
> 
> Comments are so very, very much appreciated! It's your support and interest in this fic that keeps me going and makes me want to finish it no matter how long it takes (though I strive to have the next chapter out a lot faster). 
> 
> Archive warnings: **rape/non-con**  
>  In this chapter Chuck is flashing back to his past in Hannibal's dungeons. No graphic descriptions, but enough for mental images.
> 
> Also, hetero sex, yo. <3

**Scene 70 - Chuck**

Mako led him back to the personnel area in relative silence. He wasn’t sure what to say, and Mako didn’t speak, either. But for some reason the air between them was tense, like an electric charge, and Chuck wondered if this was a consequence of them reacting to each other. Was that still a thing? He wasn’t sure how it worked. This thing Mako had called ‘drift compatible’, which seemed to exist between them, between him and Yancy, between him and Raleigh, and even him and Jazmine—he’d sensed as much, and it was _weird_ ‘cause she was so young and he wouldn’t…

Mako had stopped in front of him suddenly, and he almost ran into her. “These are Yancy’s quarters,” she said simply. “I have to talk to him.”

Chuck blinked, staggering a bit on his feet. Not just because of what Mako said, but there was something off about her—standing this close, it was like… it reminded him of that one night at the motel, when he’d pushed her down and she’d had to stop him—and now he sensed it again, a tingle in his veins, an ache that wanted to be soothed.

Mako turned towards him, and the look she had on her face, flushed and pupils dilated, made something flare up inside him. Chuck was more than a little thrown. “Your quarters are down the hallway, to the left, third door on your right, Chuck.” She turned her gaze back to the door to Yancy’s quarters and stepped forward to knock on it.

Chuck really, really didn’t want to see Yancy somehow—but his feet weren’t quite moving.

The door opened and Yancy appeared. His eyes locked with Mako’s immediately, not even noticing Chuck.

“Mako,” Yancy said softly.

Mako leaned forward a bit more, placing a hand on the side of the door.

Chuck blinked. To the two of them, right now, he was basically not there. And he could see it, the way they just… and the tension he’d sensed between him and Mako quickly started to make sense to him. Her _scent_. His chest ached sharply, his hands balled into fists. “Fucking Christ,” he mumbled. Jesus, Mako. _No wonder you smell wet—_

Both Mako and Yancy glared at him and with a shock Chuck realized he must have said that out loud.

Yancy stepped past Mako and was on him in two big steps, hand around Chuck’s throat, pushing him to his knees, an all-too-familiar show of force. Chuck went along out of sheer habit rather than willingly, his mind struggling to disobey the reflexes that had been drilled into him by his former owner.

“You’re out of line,” Yancy hissed at him.

Chuck’s nostrils flared with anger, his eyes narrowing. “So are you,” he hissed back, trying desperately to ignore the flush of shame and guilt at what he was saying and thinking towards Yancy. His eyes flicked to Mako, and then back to Yancy. “How can you think about fucking her, when Raleigh…”

Yancy’s expression turned to one of disbelief, then anger. “Who and when I fuck is none of your business anymore,” he snapped. Yancy shoved Chuck away, stepping backwards towards Mako. Who, for all her obvious frustration, didn’t smell any less good to him. In fact, her scent was getting stronger. And Yancy’s words were just cutting right into him. How could he say that? Like he didn’t give a damn about Chuck anymore, like nothing had ever happened between them, like everything Chuck _was_ right now wasn’t because of Yancy—

“Fuck you,” Chuck gasped under his breath, shakily climbing to his feet, one hand rubbing at his throat, soothing the skin where Yancy’s nails had dug in. He glanced at Mako, unable to make any sense of his body reacting to hers now. “Fuck both of you.” He had to get the hell out of this hallway. He couldn’t stand to be around them for a second longer, he had to get away, get out, get out—!

Chuck stumbled, scrambled, the hallway a blur as he ran and ran, towards his quarters, tears from anger stinging his eyes.

Chuck slammed the heavy steel door shut behind him, chest heaving, jaw clenched, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his palms.

_Fuck all of this_ , he thought. _Fuck them. Fuck the Weis and fuck Mako and fuck Yancy for looking at_ her _like that instead of me—_

He twitched and slammed his fist against the door with the meat of his palm.

_And fuck Raleigh for leaving me!_

Chuck could feel the heat of tears rising up behind his eyes and steeled himself. He wasn’t gonna cry like some fucking kid anymore.

_A bawling pup._

No fucking way.

Suddenly everything started to annoy him to a massive degree, starting with the goddamn PPDC uniform. Chuck plunked down on the bed, yanking at his clothes. They were itchy, too hot, annoying. Only when he was about to pull off his boxers Chuck stopped, remembering when Raleigh had taught him not to strip and sleep naked anymore.

Chuck sighed, left his underwear on and crawled under the covers.

But sleep wouldn’t come to him. He was tossing and turning, too hot under the covers, too cold out of them; his skin prickled and he was sweating so much he felt his sheets getting damp. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he gave up and sat upright in bed with a frustrated groan. He reached for the digital clock on the wall console.

“The fuck…?” Chuck mumbled. Barely an hour had passed. His sense of time was so thrown here in the Shatterdome. All metal and concrete, no daylight — something he’d gotten used to at the Becket mansion. Here, it was just like… back then. His first training with the PPDC. Not even Hannibal’s dungeon; that place had been grimy, filthy. Almost to a point it had been _designed_ that way, the splattering of mud and blood and god knows what other stains nearly a tad too perfect, deeply unsettling in their patterns. No, the PPDC Shatterdome was much like their other “training” facility: cold, clean and practical. Efficient. Chuck wondered if it was Pentecost’s intention to make his personnel feel like they were little more than numbers, or if that was an unintended but useful side-effect.

Chuck peeled himself out of bed, and tapped on the console. Almost midnight. He didn’t want to stick to his clammy, suffocating quarters, but he also didn’t feel much for wandering the maze-like halls and possibly end up bumping into anyone—especially if that person was Yancy or god forbid, Pentecost. Despite the still-strange sense of loyalty he had towards the PPDC chief, the Marshal, Chuck was also sure the man terrified him to his bones. If he was a dog—and wasn’t he, after all?—Pentecost was the alpha of the pack, and just being in the same room with him made Chuck want to cower. And come to think of it, maybe that was why he had less trouble with Pentecost’s orders than Yancy. Obeying the Marshal was nearly instinctive to Chuck. He couldn’t _not_.

The console lit up with a map of the personnel area, the quarters Chuck was in. The map didn’t indicate it, but based on his memory and sense of direction Chuck was pretty sure Yancy’s quarters were just down the hallway around the corner to the left. He really didn’t want to think about what Yancy and Mako were up to in there. A sharp, icy sensation flared up in his chest just considering them and he quickly zoomed out on the map. Hopefully there was something else nearby he could explore. Something that wasn’t his quarters or anyone else’s quarters, really. Fuck, at this point he’d settle for a large broom closet. The PPDC might have very interesting brooms or whatever. Chuck preferred anything above his damp sheets and concrete walls.

A large square on the map lit up, indicating he had access to the room. The Kwoon! That could be fun. As long as nobody else was there, the Wei triplets in particular. He could do without another lesson in humility or plain freaking bullying. Chuck was used to being mistreated and humiliated but he wasn’t gonna invite it on himself. He got back into his cargo pants, undershirt and boots and made his way to the martial arts room.

Chuck carefully approached the door to the Kwoon and let out a sigh of relief when there was no light visible from the small round window in the door. He stepped inside and fumbled around until he found the light switch next to the door. The bright fluorescent lights flickered on and Chuck blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted. He looked around the room; he didn’t remember much of the Kwoon’s layout and appearance. His first day in the Shatterdome was a bit of a blur, his memory blanking on the details. The only crisp, crystal-clear memory he had was that of the Ranger’s corpse, horrifically mangled, and the inhuman Kaiju skeleton.

The Kwoon was a large square room with a high ceiling and two opposing hallways leading to exits on the north and south sides. The west and east walls were lined with steel lockers that took up about half of the wall’s height from the bottom up. Chuck took off his boots, setting them aside, stepping onto the thick gym mat in the center. This kind of room was pretty cool. It reminded him of the old kung fu movies he used to watch with his dad. Seemed like a memory from a whole other lifetime, though.

His curiosity led him to the lockers on the east wall. He tried to open the one in the exact middle, but it was locked, so he moved to the one right of it. Still locked. His nightly adventure would come to a quick stop if every single locker was shut—but to his relief the third locker he tried swung open and Chuck peered inside with a satisfied smile. The small LED-bulb in the locker began to glow brighter and a dozen or so wooden staffs greeted him. He knew these! They were the staffs he’d seen the Weis fights with. Tentatively he reached out, his fingertips brushing the smooth, cool wood. He recalled how the triplets had wielded them, in something resembling an intricate dance more than a fight. Chuck wrapped his hand around the staff and pulled it out of the locker with a soft click.

The weight of it was pleasant in his hand, and he brought his other hand to it, grabbing the staff as if holding a sword. It felt good, somehow. Reassuring. A flush rose to his cheeks from the excitement; being here on his own in the middle of the night, handling a weapon which was weirdly natural in his hands, like an extension of his body as it slowly took on Chuck’s own temperature. Chuck was a little outside of himself, like he was watching his body act before his mind had caught on; he wasn’t supposed to be here on his own, he wasn’t supposed to handle a weapon. He didn’t really know the rules, but it felt like he was disobeying them. And yet… he was drawn to this place, to this weapon, something inside him settling as he weighed the staff in his hands.

He was so focused on the staff he didn’t even hear the soft footsteps on the mat coming up behind him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when the tip of another staff landed next to his right foot, followed by not entirely unfriendly laughter.

“I see you take to bō staff,” came a feminine voice, Russian accent weaved thickly through the words. Sasha Kaidonovsky.

The staff she held waved up in her grasp, Chuck too freaked out to respond, frozen in place. He was gripping his bō tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Sasha came to stand by his side and tapped his arm, shoulder, back and thigh with the tip of her bō. Lightly, not meaning harm. Chuck had learned to tell the difference when someone meant to harm him with any kind of tool or weapon. He relaxed—but only slightly, and not in the least because Sasha had tapped several tension points on his body.

“Curious, good. Form bad,” Sasha went on. “Posture is, shall I say, shit.” She grinned. “You spent too many days on hands and knees, Chuck.”

Chuck spun around, every nerve cell on his skin suddenly on full alert, adrenaline shooting through him. He hadn’t spoken to her much—but all Chuck could recall was the bright look in her eyes, the tall silhouette of a huge man behind her, their arms raised, bullets flying through the room, hitting his patron, turning filthy unwanted hands on his body into the hands of a bleeding, gurgling corpse—the rush of oxygen after the ropes were cut and blood flowed back into his limbs, being lifted into the air by the big guy like he weighed nothing, his vision filled by Sasha’s face as she told him, it was okay, he was safe, and he’d wanted nothing more than to believe it.

But that hadn’t been the first time he’d seen her. She had been the one to bring him to the dog room and put him in the cage. She had no right to speak to him like that. Hell, no-one in the PPDC did. The Weis laughing at him, now Sasha mocking him. What bullshit. They _made_ him, they had _trained_ him to be a dog and a whore against his will. They didn’t have the goddamn _right_ to mock him for it now.

“Ah, that is good, good eyes you show me,” Sasha said. She took her staff to her side, casually leaning on it. “Anger in your body. Fight in your hands. Maybe posture not shit after all.”

The compliment—if it was that—caught Chuck off-guard, and his stance relaxed a little again.

“I guess,” Chuck mumbled. What was Sasha doing here anyway? Maybe she’d come out for a midnight workout? Or had she been looking for him?

“I remember you in Bone Slum,” Sasha began. Chuck froze again. “You were tiny. Weak. At mercy.” She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “Victim.”

She might as well have punched him in the gut. Chuck let out a choked sound, Sasha’s words stomping on something in his heart, crushing it, and the urge to fight back overwhelmed him.

“Fuck you,” Chuck hissed before he could stop himself. The prickly, hot irritation he’d had all night was morphing into searing anger in his veins. How _dare_ she. How fucking dare any of them treat him this way, treating him like a fucking dog, a weakling, a _victim_. “Fuck _all_ of you. You have _no_ idea what I’ve been through. You’d fucking _die_ if you tried and **I** didn’t! So don’t stand there and give me shit for it like you have—” He swung his bō staff up in the air, “—the goddamn right to judge me!”

Sasha blocked his swing easily, their staffs colliding with a loud smack.

“Good,” she smiled. “Very good. You are no victim, Chuck.” She lowered her staff. “You are survivor, like us.”

His anger fizzled out. He’d forgotten, he kept forgetting—they were like him. The Weis, Mako, Sasha and Aleksis. Trained, broken. Maybe not as much as he had suffered in the Bone Slum, but…

“We will train you. _I_ train you, yes? You kill them.” Sasha’s tone had become much sharper, the amusement fading from her expression, her eyes hard and jaw set. “Kill all of them.”

The mangled corpse, the kaiju skeleton, the face of the Precursor he’d seen as the alien had marked him. Every single fucking thing that had been done to him for the sake of _preparation_.

Anger still brimmed in his veins, but not just towards the PPDC.

“I will,” Chuck replied.

 

 

**Scene 71 - Mako**

She heard Chuck’s footsteps fall away as he ran, but Mako didn’t go after him. Her eyes were locked with Yancy’s and as he stepped back into his quarters, their gaze not breaking, she followed. He moved to lock the door, and then came to stand behind her. He was that close she could feel the heat coming off his skin, yet he didn’t touch her.

“Mako,” Yancy said softly, his warm breath tickling the hairs on her neck and sending shivers through her body. She shuddered as the tips of his fingers traced down her shoulders, her arms, until his hands covered hers and he pulled her into an embrace. Mako let out a sigh as Yancy’s warm, strong body enveloped hers, and she dared to close her eyes for a second. They had never quite made contact like this, never this… gentle.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Yancy whispered, as if it pained him to confess that. His embrace tightened. “When I saw you like that… There was so much blood.” His voice trembled.

Mako couldn’t help but smile a little, knowing Yancy cared about her that much, had been that affected by her. Yancy shifted, releasing her. He came to stand in front of her, his expression still somewhat vulnerable, but more stern. She knew that look and the smile on her lips faded in anticipation.

“I also owe you an apology,” Yancy went on. His hand reached out to her, tracing the sensitive side of her torso. “I was wrong in saying Pentecost gave you to me. You are not a thing to be passed around.” His thumb reached the top of her PPDC issue cargo pants and stroked the edge. “And he couldn’t give you to me,” Yancy continued in a darker tone. “Because you are already mine, Mako.” His fingers moved to tug her shirt up and out of where it was tucked in her pants.

Mako shivered when Yancy’s fingers brushed over her skin. She didn’t know what it was about the man’s touch that made her respond like this. She didn’t react this way to anyone else; not Aleksis nor Sasha, none of the Weis, certainly none of her past patrons. Not even Chuck, with whom she was drift compatible. Not even… not even sensei. Yancy’s touch was different. He set her ablaze, ever since that very first night, when he’d made her body sing under his painful and pleasurable ministrations.

She gasped as Yancy’s hand gently stroked up her side. Then he let go and stepped back, glancing at her, his gaze sliding up and down her body approvingly. “Undress.”

Despite her years of training, Mako blushed. Not for showing herself naked—which wouldn’t faze her in just about any situation—but for having to expose the bruises and scar on her torso to Yancy. They were a sign of her weakness, her failure. She should have seen Kaori, should have heard her approaching, should have reacted faster. But she had failed. She had made Yancy worry. Now she wondered what he might have in store for her as a result.

Mako let out a shaky breath and her fingers trembled as she hooked them under the hem of her shirt, complying to Yancy’s command.

She could feel Yancy’s eyes on her, observing her every movement, and every now and then her gaze would meet his and she was caught off guard by the intensity of it, the focus. He wasn’t bored; he wasn’t just amusing himself. He was affected by this as much as she was. With every article of clothing she peeled off her heart sped up a little and finally she stood up straight, perfect posture, naked before him, her skin prickled, flushed and sensitive.

A part of her said this was ridiculous. She was trained; she was an expert, a professional. There was no way Yancy should affect her this much. She should try harder to keep her composure.

Then Yancy was right in front of her, so close, his hands resting on her hips. “Good girl,” he murmured, and Mako felt those words echo in her blood.

But what Yancy did next truly surprised her. He slid down her body, falling to his knees. He was not supposed to do that! Kneeling—that was her task. She was not a Trainer, not dominant. Not the way Chuck was, having both sides, although he had only briefly shown his dominant side when reacting to her. Yancy though—there was no way he was anything but a Trainer. The one who held the reigns, who demanded and wielded power. Why was he—

And then she felt his hands, big, warm, strong, one on her lower back and one at the top of her thigh. Holding her firmly in place, a grasp at once familiar and overpowering. His kneeling was not a display of submission; it was something else.

Yancy leaned forward and pressed his lips to her scar.

Mako sucked in her breath. It was such a gentle, affectionate gesture, and she wasn’t sure how to react to it.

Yancy trailed kisses down her belly until his lips were on her pubic mound, his nose brushing over her neatly trimmed black hairs, and he breathed in her scent deeply.

“Yancy…” Mako gasped, unsure of what to do or how to react, despite all her training.

Yancy leaned back, his eyes meeting hers, and the hand that had been on her lower back was whisked away and smacked her bottom a second later. Mako let out a small yelp of surprise.

“That is not how you address me, kitten,” Yancy said, his voice a little stern, even when he was still on the ground with one knee.

Mako bit her lip. “Sorry… sir,” she managed.

Yancy smacked her again and she gasped. “Did I not tell you before you’re mine?” Yancy said.

Oh… _oh._ That’s what he wanted to hear from her. “Yes… but—”

She froze. She hadn’t wanted to say that, hadn’t meant to. But she couldn’t call Yancy what he wanted, she _couldn’t_. Not yet.

Yancy was on his feet swiftly, his hand weaving in her hair, grasping it tight enough for her head to be tugged back a little.

“But?” he hissed. “But you don’t believe it yet, kitten? Is that it?” His free hand slid between her legs and dipped into the wetness of her cunt.

“Ah—!” Mako gasped. She knew she was wet, and Yancy touching her like this sent a new wave of arousal through her.

Yancy slipped his hand out, fingers curving to lap up her juices and fingertips teasing over her clit. Mako let out a soft moan.

Yancy put his fingers to her mouth, dripping and smelling of herself. “You’re so wet already,” Yancy said. “I think your body remembers me. Knows who she belongs to… who is her owner.”

His fingers pressed down and understanding what he wanted her to do Mako parted her lips, sucking in Yancy’s fingers, licking her own juices off his digits.

“There you go,” Yancy murmured. “Make sure they’re all clean, kitten.”

Mako’s eyes flashed up to meet Yancy’s and something clicked in her mind, something she hadn’t done in a long time, something that had been a part of her training yet practiced so little it had been tucked away in a box in the back of her psyche, where she kept more things—many things—shameful and uncomfortable.

She closed her eyes and lapped at Yancy’s fingers with soft, quick licks, and as his grasp on her head loosened she turned her head to reach all corners of Yancy’s hand until she was sure she had gotten all of it.

When she looked at Yancy again, he was smiling. “Very good,” he said.

Mako leaned her head down further, rubbing her head against Yancy’s hand. Ah… this was old, yet so familiar. Comforting, in a way. She didn’t have to think so much. This was… this was easier somehow.

Yancy’s fingers stroked back through her hair, nails scratching lightly at the base of her skull. Mako shivered with enjoyment, letting out a small noise of contentment. He then released her and went to sit on his bed. Mako sank to her hands and feet as he moved away from her, the position feeling much more natural to her as she was now.

Yancy patted his calf and clicked his tongue at her. “Come here, kitten.”

Mako scuttled over, quick and agile, nudging her head against his calf, seeking out Yancy’s hand.

“Good,” Yancy murmured. He placed a hand on her head, scratching lightly, which got him another noise from Mako. Then he tapped his foot, and pushed Mako’s head down. When her nose was pressed to the toe of his large, black leather boot, Mako understood what he wanted.

The dusty leather didn’t taste nice on her tongue as she lapped over it, but as she went on Yancy removed his hand from her head and she could sense him relaxing a little. It spurred her on, knowing her actions pleased him, and she scraped her tongue over every inch of his boot, around the laces, even the muddy edge of the sole. When she was done with one boot, she looked up, and Yancy’s face was stern but not displeased. He tapped his other foot.

As she began to clean it too, Yancy’s hand weaved into her hair, scratching behind her ears and on her head, and she let out a soft purr as a reply. He chuckled at that, and his hand went down her spine. Mako shuddered with enjoyment, lifting her hips up higher to meet his caress, even as she kept lapping at the leather boot.

Yancy’s hand slid between her cheeks then, thumb pressing lightly on her ass, his fingers slipping into her cunt.

Mako’s tongue let off and she mewled, hips lifting higher to meet his touch. Oh, that felt so good!

“I didn’t say you could stop, kitten,” Yancy said, his hand holding still. Mako blushed and went back to her task, the tip of her tongue circling around the laces, over the seams of the leather. She was getting used to the taste now, and it wasn’t as bad.

Yancy’s fingers moved, spreading her wet entrance open, pushing inside. Mako shivered and moaned even as her tongue continued its work. Yancy sought out her most sensitive spots—just like he had that night in Seattle, she thought—the rim of her vagina, so slippery he easily thrusted in three fingers; her swollen clit, aching for pressure; and when his thumb pushed more insistently at her rear she couldn’t suppress another loud mewl. She was so close already, just from this—his fingers were so, so good; like he was playing her like an instrument, effortlessly, masterfully.

Yancy removed his hand and Mako whined at the loss, stopping the noise promptly when she heard his zipper slide down. She perked up, the other boot fully cleaned now, and let out a small purr when Yancy caressed her hair. Mako leaned into the touch with her whole body. She wanted him so badly now she could feel herself dripping, juices flowing down her thighs.

Yancy pulled her head towards his crotch, bulge still caught in his boxers, and Mako looked up at him as she pressed her lips to it. He looked so pleased, and that pleased her in return. She licked at the fabric, pressing her tongue against it, eager to feel and taste the hardness underneath.

“So eager,” Yancy murmured, and he shoved his boxers down, freeing his cock with a light bounce. Mako’s eyes went large and her mouth watered. Yancy smiled. “Go on then.”

Mako lapped at Yancy’s cock, licking it from base to tip, purring out of enjoyment. Yancy let out a sigh of pleasure as she swept her tongue over the sensitive head, moving down the shaft when he shuddered and gasped from almost too much stimulation. He pushed his boxers further down and Mako took it as a sign to dip her head in deeper, flicking her tongue forward to brush over his balls, and Yancy moaned as she did.

Then she licked back up his shaft, tongue curving around the tip of his cock until Yancy almost keened with pleasure.

His hand tugged her head back by the hair and he patted his lap again. “Come up here, kitten.”

She didn’t have to be told twice, and she hopped into his lap in one fluid, graceful motion.

It would take almost no effort for him to slip inside her in this position. No effort at all. She’d just have to sit a little closer, more snug, lift her hips just so…

“If you want it, you’ll have to ask for permission,” Yancy said.

Mako licked her lips. Cats didn’t normally speak, but he allowed her to ask something now. “Please,” she whispered.

“Please what?” Yancy replied, hands holding her hips firmly in place even as she tried to rock forward.

“... Sir…”  Mako mumbled in reply.

His fingers were inside her in a split second and she yelped.

“Who do you belong to, kitten?” Yancy asked, fingers writhing, spreading her open.

Mako gasped, shuddering. It was too much, there were so many sensations, she couldn’t process—

He released her, making slick sounds as his fingers slid out of her, and then pulled her head closer, their foreheads touching, their eyes meeting.

“Mako,” Yancy said, loud and commanding, catching all of her attention. “Who do you belong to?”

“You…!” Mako gasped, unable to break away, caught in Yancy’s ice blue eyes, her entire body caught in his grasp, made feverish by his touch. She couldn’t remember anything like this—not with anyone—all she knew was this, him, his touch, the way he knew exactly how to press and touch and ask and push and pull, the way he simply knew _her_ , took _her_ , _owned her—_

“You… owner,” Mako panted. “I belong to you, owner, please…”

Yancy kissed her as he pulled her hips close, lifted her up, one hand guiding himself inside her—

She was lost, and then found again, the perfect feeling of his cock thrusting inside, hot and thick and so hard and _his_ and everything she had missed and wanted, and her nails dug into his shoulders, mewling with pleasure.

Yancy groaned, burying his head in the crook of her neck. “So good, Mako,” he gasped. “You’re so wet, so tight for me, such a good girl, such a lovely kitten…”

Mako wrapped her arms tight around him, unable to vocalize words, her hips rolling of her own accord trying to get more, feel more—

She moaned loudly as she came, just from Yancy fucking into her — and he held her tight, not stopping for a second as the wave of the orgasm rolled through her, winding down and then the next one came, his fingers on her clit again, and the next one after that; she knew his lap must have gotten soaked by her but she couldn’t, didn’t want to stop; she couldn’t remember ever feeling this good, this much pleasure. Yes, he owned her; he was her owner; now and much more than sensei ever was. She understood that now, and it was all at once wonderful and frightening.

She woke up a few hours later, naked and smelling like soap, in the crook of Yancy’s elbow, to a soft snore coming from him. She went to the bathroom, and when she saw her reflection in the mirror, she found she looked different somehow. Flushed, affected, a little glowy—a twinkle in her eyes, even? But perhaps that was only her exhaustion.

Mako crawled back into bed, nuzzling against her owner’s chest, and it was warmer and safer than she had felt in a long time; perhaps ever.

 

 

**Scene 72 - Chuck**

The alarm pierced his conscious like a sword, sharp and loud, bathing his vision in red. Only when he sat up straight, Chuck realized the room was actually lit up with red alarm lights coming from the console.

“Jesus Christ,” Chuck muttered as he crawled out of bed, searching for any switch on the console to turn the infernal noise off. “Operation Lion’s Den Phase 3 commencing,” the screen said in bright white letters. “Report to LOCCENT for mission briefing.”

Chuck raised his eyebrows. “Mmmokay,” he mumbled. Pentecost probably wanted him to sit in and shut up or something. He had zero military training. He was pretty sure you didn’t raid a big-wig criminal’s headquarters by throwing professionally-trained hookers at it.

He dragged himself into the shower, climbing out minutes later slightly more refreshed. His reflection in the mirror was just as disappointing as the day before. He looked skinny, worn-out, bags under his eyes, and now his jaw’s poor attempt at growing facial hair included. It had started coming in a few weeks ago and Chuck wasn’t really sure what to do with the pitiful fuzz except shave it off. At least the PPDC had thoughts to supply him with shaving cream and a razor. Just like the shower gel, the towels, his uniform. Everything PPD issued.

The uniform didn’t look much better either, clinging to his body at awkward angles, making him look younger than he already was, like a kid playing dress-up. Chuck frowned, the feel of dog tags on his skin not any less strange than the day before. Maybe this was Pentecost’s game. Making him feel like he actually had a place here, like he belonged, like he had a purpose. But it was just another costume, Chuck knew. Another way for people to use him. Nothing had changed, after all.

He glanced at the console again. The alarm had toned down to a tolerable beep, but the announcement was still there. Operation Lion’s Den.

Saving Raleigh, even saving his old man. That’s all that mattered. If Pentecost asked him to jump, Chuck would ask how high. And if Pentecost asked him to seduce and fuck some guards or whatever, Chuck would ask how many. There was at least one thing he was good for.

Of course his timing would be so fucking perfect to see Yancy and Mako coming out of Yancy’s quarters together. That could only mean one thing, and it was impossible to _not_ notice the air of sex and infatuation that clung to them. And Chuck wanted nothing more than to bolt out of there and just… scream and punch something.

Instead, somehow, he found it within himself to hold his head up high, straighten his shoulders, and bloody swallow and shove the scorching hurt in his chest down into the nothing inside himself where he’d put everything else painful. No more. He wasn’t gonna crawl and beg anymore, not for Yancy. Not for one damn second longer in his already fucked-up life.

“Morning,” Chuck said tersely, his gaze fixed on the end of the hall far beyond the two of them, not making eye contact, but well aware of Yancy and Mako staring at him as he strutted right past them. _That’s right_ , Chuck thought. _I don’t need you anymore._ He sensed their gaze on him as he walked further down the hall and a slight grin made its way to his face. _Damn right_.

Chuck walked towards LOCCENT, already spotting several PPDC officers inside the room through the thick glass that surrounded it. Pentecost at the head of the console table, Tamsin by his side, then the Weis on the left and the Kaidonovskies on the right. They looked up in sync as Chuck pushed open the door and stepped inside. He glanced briefly at Pentecost, the others, and then went to stand next to the Weis like there was no doubt in his mind that’s where his place _was_. With the other dogs. Chuck hoped that had been the right choice; there was plenty of doubt in his mind, but none of which Chuck wanted them to notice. He’d at least somewhat learned to mask his real feelings if he wanted to, or he wouldn’t have survived his training or Hannibal’s dungeon.

Cheung, next to him, gave him a small nod.

The right choice, then.

“Sir,” Chuck said, making eye contact with Pentecost. He wasn’t sure if he needed to salute, but it also seemed like the right thing to do.

“Ranger Hansen,” Pentecost replied with a nod.

He was doing pretty well so far, Chuck figured.

Yancy and Mako were right behind him. Chuck noticed Pentecost’s expression changing slightly at their combined entrance, his pupils dilating, the corners of his mouth twitching. Chuck wondered how Pentecost took the news, the change in their relationship, whatever had happened between his protégé and his least favorite trainer. The Marshal did not look pleased. Chuck could imagine he wouldn’t be; the way Mako had always spoken about Pentecost, with awe and respect and obedience. Even after she had disobeyed his order by taking Chuck out of the PPDC’s hands.

Mako bowed towards the Marshal after she had entered the room. Yancy gave a curt nod. Pentecost scraped his throat, and the tension was nearly palpable in the air.

“Ladies, gentlemen. Welcome to Operation Lion’s Den, Phase 3 mission briefing,” Pentecost began. He tapped the console controls in front of him and the table lit up. It showed a map of Hong Kong, blue and red lights dotting an area near the harbor. Pentecost zoomed in on it. “This is Kowloon Bay, where Hannibal Chau’s HQ is located. The complex, named the Bone Slum, has the public face of a highly exclusive nightclub affordable and attainable only by the richest most infamous criminals. In other words, Hannibal’s clientèle. This is where he does business, this is where all organized crime within the Hong Kong area does business. This is the neutral ground for the Triads. And on the underground level, it’s where Hannibal’s most valued clients are able to let loose their most hidden, perverse, inhumane fantasies.”

Chuck clenched his fists behind his back, nails digging into his skin, shoulders tightening. He _knew_. Pentecost was talking about it, the others were nodding along, but Chuck _knew_. In mind, in body. They would never understand. The would never truly know or feel how horrible it had been. How it had changed Chuck. How the PPDC’s _training_ was a walk in the fucking park compared to the Bone Slum. How it had created a void inside him, a thick, bottomless blackness that edged everything he sensed, everything he thought. The was no such thing as comfort, happiness, safety. Whatever he had felt with Raleigh, it must have been an illusion. But that didn’t matter. Raleigh was _in there_. Raleigh didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve to feel what Chuck had felt, didn’t deserve to experience what Chuck had, didn’t deserve that ever-present edge of hell inside himself. Chuck was going to get him out, in whatever way possible.

Pentecost zoomed in further on Kowloon Bay, showing the industrial area where the Bone Slum was located. “Hannibal has spared no coin in the protection of his profitable home base. Several security posts have been placed in a 2 mile radius of the club and are currently engaged with our strike units.

At 07:14 we received word a path to a side-entrance has been cleared. Our strike units are holding their position and are waiting for the infiltration team.” Pentecost looked at those present. “Rangers Wei, Kaidonovsky, that will be you. You will operate under the command of Field Marshal Sevier.”

The six of them nodded, no hint of surprise. They probably expected their assignment, Chuck figured.

Pentecost coughed and continued. “Due to injury, Ranger Mori will remain at the Shatterdome. Ranger Hansen and Mr. Becket will sit this one out due to their lack of combat experience.”

“I’m coming with you,” Yancy said before anyone else could react. “I’m not leaving Raleigh’s safety to you.”

Pentecost raised a meaningful eyebrow. “You are a civilian, Mr. Becket,” he said simply. “You cannot take part in this mission.”

“I know how to handle a gun,” Yancy threw back. “And I hold third dan in judo. You know all this from my file.”

Chuck blinked. He hadn’t known that—it explained a lot about Yancy being able to hold him down, wrestle him to the ground from whatever position. That kind of confidence he had about his body, about handling someone else’s body.

What else didn’t he know about Yancy? Hell—what _did_ he know? He knew Yancy’s body, knew the feel of Yancy’s arms and hands and cock. Knew his voice. Knew exactly how to obey and disobey him, what to say, what to do. But Yancy as a person — aside from being just as fucked up as Chuck was and running a big tech company out of Silicon Valley, Chuck didn’t know a whole lot.

It was yet another fact that showed how surreal and messed up his life had become.

“My point stands,” Pentecost replied matter-of-factly. “You are not a PPDC ranked officer.”

Yancy’s expression darkened, frowning.

“Fine,” he snapped after a few minutes. “You got me, Stacker. Sign me up, stars and stripes, whatever the hell it takes. I need to get my little brother out of that shithole.”

Chuck could swear he saw a hint of satisfaction flash across Pentecost’s face.

“Report to Requisitions after the briefing, Ranger Becket,” Pentecost said, enlisting Yancy into the PPDC like he had expected no other outcome. And he probably hadn’t. Chuck flinched; he was torn between wanting Yancy to go as far away as possible and wanting Yancy back and he didn’t know how to react at all except that the whole situation frustrated him beyond belief.

Pentecost’s attention turned back to the map. He zoomed in further to a floor plan of the Bone Slum. Chuck froze. He felt like his stomach had turned into a lump of stone. He knew that floor plan. He _knew_ that place. As Pentecost explained the layout, his mind threw image after image at him.  The stairs, lined with purple fluorescent lights, crawling down them on hands and feet, a patron tugging on his leash; the dance floor below, music reverberating through the walls, writhing bodies; the VIP boxes where he’d have to entertain patrons… those were the easy days. Those were just the start.

Chuck remembered how he was always brought back to the elevator at the back of the second floor, stripped by security of what little he wore, collared, shackled. Put back into his cage downstairs.

Something on the map caught his eye. “That’s wrong,” he blurted out. All eyes turned towards him. Pentecost raised an eyebrow, but stayed quiet.

“Over there,” Chuck continued, pointing at the map. “There’s four guard posts on the top level, not two.”

Pentecost glanced at the map, then back at Chuck. “Our information is reliable, Ranger. We do not need your tactical input at this point.”

“Let’s hear what he has to say, Stacker,” Tamsin piped up.

Chuck blinked. Out of everyone in the room he hadn’t expected _Tamsin_ to support him.

“May I ask how you came by this info?” she added.

Chuck bit his lip. He wasn’t going to—but then he looked around. Met the eyes of his fellow Rangers. Stronger, bigger, more confident, better trained than him. But still. They’d all started out the same way, like him. Trained, broken. Even Yancy, in his own way. He didn’t know about Tamsin and Pentecost. And he had gone through hell, just about. They couldn’t even begin to imagine—

— _large greasy hands left his skin, an unwanted kiss on his flesh and then his leash was being yanked; he was walking back to the elevator at the hands of his handler when he heard a laugh, saw a shove. A stream of words, Chinese, English, he couldn’t make out. His handler surrendered the leash. He followed. They didn’t hurt him more than others did downstairs, but there were a lot of them at once. He lost count. They all felt the same, tasted the same. It just made the night longer, and all he wanted to do was sleep—_

Chuck narrowed his eyes. “I was used by the guards often after my upstairs rounds,” he said, steeling his jaw, straightening his shoulders. _That’s right_ , Chuck thought. _That’s the world you put me in. That’s what happened to me, and I’m no longer gonna whimper and hide about it._

He kept his gaze on Tamsin, almost daring her to say something, gauging her for any sign of sympathy that he knew was bullshit. Tamsin had been the one to dope him up for Yancy. In a way, she had set it all in motion. He didn’t trust her for one damn second.

Tamsin gave him a nod. “Sufficient, but under the circumstances, unreliable information.”

Chuck flushed with embarrassment. He _knew_ the map was incomplete, knew there were other guard posts, other patrol routes. He had learned to avoid them as much as possibly, catching the eye of a patron — nearby or far away — entertaining them just long or briefly enough. He had done with his extremely limited power what he could to avoid being used by a dozen guards every night and even then it hadn’t been enough.

  
How dare they doubt him — how dare they act like they knew it all? They didn’t know jack shit, they hadn’t been there. Whatever info they got must’ve been from Scott anyway—

Chuck stopped his train of thought as he sensed the familiar sting behind his eyes. No. He wasn’t gonna go there, wasn’t gonna think about his uncle. The last thing he needed in this miserable briefing was to get all weepy. Fuck that. He grit his teeth and shut up.

“The mission is simple,” Pentecost said. “Follow the floor plan to the second floor, then to the elevators at the back. They can only be activated with an encrypted key.”

_Hey, I know this too_ , Chuck thought. _The keys are with—_

“The so-called Dungeon Monitors have these keys,” Pentecost went on.

Dungeon Monitors. Right. They were Chuck’s handlers, one way or the other. They held the leash and the keys. They brought him from his cell to the dungeon rooms and back. They made sure he was marginally fed and cleaned up enough to be presentable to Hannibal’s clients. Of course, they had varying standards of ‘presentable’. Some liked Chuck to look and smell as filthy as possible, and their request was usually fulfilled. They were the ones who—

_He should’ve known the john was bad news. Who even dresses like that, gold-plated shoes, a big red coat. Who even picks up a street hooker with a limousine. But it looked like money, it smelled like money. And it was cold and raining and he hadn’t eaten in a day or two… but no sandwich was worth what followed. He’d gotten to know that kind of roughness from Scott — only this time he could sense it coming, could go away for a while and come back when it was over. And when he did come back he was held down by men in blue alien-like masks whilst goldishoes was standing at the edge of the bed, grinning madly at him, cock still hanging out of his fly like he evidently didn’t give a shit. “I’m Hannibal Chau,” the man barked. “And your ass belongs to me now.”_

That had been the first time he’d seen them, the very day Hannibal had captured him.

He hadn’t remembered until now. Not entirely. It had been there but like a song at the back of his head he couldn’t quite get the melody or words of. For a few moments his senses were assaulted by the recollection—the smell of Hannibal’s aftershave, the weight of his body on Chuck, and the terror that had filled him when seeing those masks. Like somehow they made it all worse, made the surreal real. Like everything that had happened up till then, the PPDC, being trained, even Scott, it had all been some kind of bad dream—but if men with freaky blue masks showed up then _they_ were the bad dream and everything else was real, it had all really happened to him. That train of thought had made sense to him at the time anyway, and he’d just screamed until they gagged him—

It was Pentecost’s voice that brought him back to the present, deep and rumbling. Chuck looked around. Had anyone noticed he’d spaced out, or…? But nobody gave him any strange looks, everyone was still listening to the Marshal. Yet for a short time, Chuck's mind had been miles away.

“These people are marked by their blue masks, possibly mimicking the appearance of the Kaiju,” Pentecost said. “It’s likely Hannibal will have them cleared out and the dungeon level on lockdown. That’s why you’ll descend through the elevator shaft after blowing the doors open.”

“This part of the operation is your task, Rangers Wei, as close combat and demolitions are your key skills,” Pentecost said to them.

They nodded and answered in sync. “Affirmative, Marshal.”

“Rangers Kaidonovsky, as weaponry and defensive tactics experts you are tasked with holding the elevator room until the rest of the infiltration team has cleared the elevator entrance at the dungeon level. We’re not going out the same way, so get ready to rappel down the shaft once you get the go-ahead.”

“Understood, Marshal,” Sasha replied. Aleksis grunted something unintelligible, as usual.

“Ranger Becket, Sevier and myself make up the infiltration control team,” Pentecost went on. “We go in after Rangers Wei who clear up a path with their offensive _Typhoon_ combat pattern.”

_What the hell is an offensive typhoon combat pattern_ , Chuck thought. His mind was starting to reel with this info dump of military jargon.

“—and locate and rescue mission targets Raleigh Becket and Hercules Hansen.”

An icy sensation ran down Chuck’s spine with the mention of his dad’s name. He knew Herc got trained to be a Master at the Bone Slum. He’d seen his old man there, and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to see him again. He was at odds with his dad _before_ he got sold off to the PPDC—and he had no idea what his old man had suffered at the hands of Hannibal Chau, but he couldn’t have turned into a _better_ person. At the same time, nobody deserved to be held in the Bone Slum. Not even Herc. Only the people who ran and frequented it; and they deserved worse.

Pentecost continued. “We expect heavy resistance and the infiltration team will be backed up by our strike units after checkpoints are cleared.” He paused and looked around. “Any questions so far?”

Nobody spoke up. Chuck had a lot of questions, all of which probably were dumb to ask, judging by Pentecost’s earlier dismissal of him.

“We make our escape through the sewers accessible from the dungeon level,” Pentecost went on. “These are unfortunately not a suitable point of entry as the system of doors and valves only leads away from the complex.”

“As I previously stated, Ranger Hansen and Mori will observe and coordinate the operation from LOCCENT.”

Mako nodded in reply. “Yes sir.” Chuck followed her example, mumbling a quick yessir.

Pentecost tapped the console and the map faded. “That concludes the mission briefing,” he said. “Make your way to Requisitions for your field gear. We move out at 08:00. Dismissed.”

The triplets and the Russians saluted and marched out of the room. Chuck nearly followed them until he remembered he was supposed to stay in LOCCENT. He didn’t need any field gear. But he had the urge to get out and see what was happening in the Shatterdome. Or maybe he just didn’t want to get left behind with Tamsin and Pentecost.

“Um… sir, permission to leave the room?” Chuck mumbled.

Pentecost raised his typical eyebrow. “Report here at 08:00, Ranger. That is all.”

Chuck gave Pentecost an awkward, approximate salute, and left the room as quickly as he could.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Operation Lion's Den has begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, let me start with, if you are reading this, you are freaking awesome. It’s been almost a year-and-a-half since I last updated this fic and you have come back to it. You’ve stuck with it all the way to this chapter. You rock. It’s the now-and-then comments on Rain that kept me going through some really tough writing.
> 
> And I have pretty good news for you.
> 
> This year I used NaNoWriMo in order to finish the first volume of Rain. The whole thing. That means that right now, like, at least four more chapters are already written and only in need of editing. . Rain is what it’s always been; a cracktastic when-did-this-get-so-complicated mess with a whole lot of continuity errors, what with the massive gaps in between writing. That’s fine. This is the messy, cracktastic, complicated story I want to traumatize my readers with. Er. I mean. Tell you about.
> 
> I won’t keep you waiting any longer. 
> 
> Lots of love,
> 
> -Delta

**Scene 73—Chuck**

The Shatterdome was preparing for battle.

A steady, throbbing alarm was pulsing through the large hall as squads of PPDC soldiers marched towards the helipads, screens on the walls projecting the mission status in bright orange letters, paired with a computer voice repeating the announcement every few minutes.

“LION’S DEN PHASE THREE COMMENCING. CHERNO ALPHA AND CRIMSON TYPHOON DEPLOYING.”

Chuck felt more lost than ever. He still had some time to kill before he had to report back to LOCCENT, but now he wished he had stayed put. All he felt here was a sense of not belonging, of being fake. He was a whore, not a soldier. He might be wearing the uniform, but he hardly deserved it. And what was worse, he’d lost his bearings. He had no idea how to get back from LOCCENT from here and the wall consoles no longer displayed directions for the Shatterdome, instead showing relevant mission information for those who could interpret it.

For the umpteenth time in the past couple of days, Chuck considered that being a pet was a lot easier than any of this. He regretted running away, back then—if he’d stayed in the cabin, stayed with Mako…

But none of that mattered, now. Here he was, surrounded by people who wanted him to be or do something he wasn’t, not sure who he wanted to be at all. Amidst all this chaos, the only thing he could make sense of was his old, familiar desire for direction, for ownership—for Yancy. And Yancy wasn’t gonna come for him. Yancy was fucking Mako, or whatever.

Confused, frustrated, angry—at Yancy, at the PPDC, at his old man. The only thing that really kept him going was the thought of Raleigh. Raleigh had been sweet, and nice, and smelled like coffee and sunshine. Raleigh had believed in him, had never tried to mess with him or use him for something. If someone in this entire clusterfuck deserved to be saved, it was Raleigh.

Chuck couldn’t stand walking around in circles, feeling absolutely useless. His arms and legs wouldn’t be still, his mind was dancing around itself trying to find some kind of distraction from how scared he really was. He needed to do something, be somewhere, do anything, as long as it wasn’t waiting.

Lost in thought, Chuck bumped into someone significantly bigger and sturdier than him, wearing PPDC field gear. Chuck looked up to meet brown eyes and one hell of a square jaw.

“Private,” the man said, his voice friendlier than Chuck had expected. Chuck glanced at his name tag.

Ranger B. Gage

A Ranger? Chuck wasn’t sure what the rank meant—other than _he_ was apparently a Ranger, and so were the Weis, and the Kaidonovskies, and now Yancy. And all of them had at least one thing in common. They were trainers and pets. Did that mean this Ranger Gage was like them too? Chuck hadn’t know there were others.

 _Stupid. Of course there are others_ , Chuck scolded himself. _Look at the size of this place_.

So there must be more Rangers? More people like him. That thought settled some of his restlessness, but only very little.

And this Ranger—he’d called Chuck ‘private’. Didn’t he know Chuck was a Ranger as well? Then Chuck realized he wasn’t wearing his PPDC jacket. No name tag. And his dog tags were tucked under his shirt.

“Reqs is that way,” Ranger Gage said, raising an eyebrow at Chuck and nodding in the direction Chuck came from.

Well, no shit Sherlock, Chuck thought. He’d come from there a few minutes ago, making a face heel turn at the sight of Yancy and Mako cozying each other up in field armor. He really, really didn’t want to see any of that. It made him feel sick and weird and angry.

Chuck wasn’t sure how to respond to the Ranger. He should be heading back to LOCCENT anyway, so maybe he could ask for directions? Chuck was about to open his mouth to ask when Ranger Gage grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

“Never mind, kid. We gotta move out.”

“I’m not—” Chuck started, and then a new, odd idea occurred to him. What if I went? He could. This Ranger didn’t recognize him. Maybe none of the ground troops knew what he looked like. What if… and he could help Raleigh, maybe. The map Pentecost had shown him was missing information and they didn’t want to listen to him. He could help, right? He was a Ranger, too. And nobody knew Hannibal’s dungeon as well as he did. Not really. Even if he’d been out of it a lot, drugged up or dissociating— _pay attention, dumbass, where are you even going_.

Chuck’s attention snapped back to the present. Ranger Gage was dragging him towards the big hall, Chuck could tell. There was more noise, people running past them, the air getting colder.

Ranger Gage’s pace slowed and he stopped right before entering the Shatterdome’s main hall, turning the handle on a big door to their left and walking inside, pulling Chuck along with him.

The room was lined with lockers at the back, large steel footlockers in the middle, and walls to the left and right were full of all sorts of guns, some of which Chuck recognized, mostly because he’d seen them in videogames and movies.

Between them and the guns was a steel gate, and in front of the gate a jittery-looking PPDC officer in a casual uniform behind a steel desk the width of the room.

“Hey, Kim,” Gage greeted the officer. “Do you have a spare field kit for Private Dumbass over here? Kid looks green as grass and didn’t grab his gear in time.”

He looked at Chuck and gave him a wink. “What’s your size, private? Medium?”

Chuck fidgeted, trying to hide his nerves. Was he gonna go along with this? For real? Disobey Pentecost’s orders, just like that? The sight of the Marshal made Chuck want to cower with his tail between his legs. But, here he was. It would be no trouble at all to go along with it, Ranger Gage here practically threw it in his lap—this was his last chance to protest, to go back, to do what he’d been ordered, what he’d been told—

_Your information is unreliable, Ranger Hansen. Bawling pup. Form is, shall I say, shit. I’m not your owner anymore. Do as you’re told. Good dog. Follow orders. You’re a slave, nothing more. You were meant to be owned. You’re a useless dog. You’re just our hole to be used. You’re a filthy whore. Do as I say. You liked it, didn’t you Charlie? Bad dog. Obey me. OBEY ME!_

A horrible, dizzying sensation rose up through Chuck and then crystallized in his chest, fierce and bright.

_No more. I won’t obey. I’m not a slave. I’m not a useless dog! No more! NO MORE!_

Chuck took a step forward, and it was like he was watching himself from a distance. _Am I really doing this? Is that really me?_

The words, when he heard them come out of his mouth, sounded almost alien to him.

“‘m a size Small, mate. Sir,” Chuck said, his accent reverting back to Australian somehow. He’d adopted an American accent on the Seattle streets. Back then he figured he’d be found out fast if someone came looking for a redhead Aussie hooker, so he’d started to talk with a Cali drawl and dyed his hair black. It’d worked, for a while. When a john commented on his tattoo in white ink he’d started to cover it up too. Still, Hannibal had found him—

_I’m Hannibal Chau, and your ass belongs to me now._

No more. No more of that shit. This time, he wasn’t going to hide and wait. He was gonna take the fight to Hannibal. He was gonna get Raleigh and even his old man out of there. He couldn’t just sit here and hope it all worked out. He _had_ to get Raleigh. He had to.

“Sure, got a spare S kit,” officer Kim said. He walked away from the front desk of the armory to one of the footlockers.

“Thanks,” Ranger Gage said. He turned towards Chuck. “Green and a size S? Where’d they find you, a street corner?”

Chuck flushed with shame. The Ranger wasn’t far off the mark, and caught Chuck’s expression before he could hide it.

“Oh— right,” Gage said. He clasped a hand down on Chuck’s shoulder. “Hey, down here, it’s a plus. You might make Ranger someday.”

Chuck flashed the Ranger an awkward smile. He was a Ranger—and he really didn’t consider it a plus.

Kim came back with a large backpack and hoisted it onto the counter. “Here you are, private. Stay safe with Bruce here, and you’ll be fine.”

Bruce, huh. Bruce Gage. Chuck sized him up again. Another Ranger. So he’d gone through similar stuff, right? Suddenly, Chuck wanted to know everything about this guy. Here was someone who didn’t know who Chuck was, who wasn’t lying to him about who he was and what he wanted. He was a fellow Ranger with the same goal: to have the mission succeed. To take down Hannibal and the Kaiju.

Bruce raised his eyebrow again. “Haven’t got all day, private.”

Kim looked at them, shrugged, and went back to his console.

Oh— oh. The Ranger wanted Chuck to change right then and there. He wasn’t worried about being naked or in his underwear or anything—but if he messed up putting on his gear, the Ranger might see right through him and realize Chuck had zero military training.

The hell with it, Chuck thought. Standing around doubting himself wasn’t gonna improve Bruce’s impression of Chuck either way.

Chuck put down the heavy backpack and opened it. Out of it he pulled a dark blue jumpsuit, carbon-fibre gloves, knee- and shoulder pads, a bulletproof vest with a dozen pockets, a utility belt with _even more pockets_ , a face mask, a helmet, and at least a dozen more straps and pockets and guns and a baton and Chuck was definitely trying to not freak out. He had no idea how to put anything on except the jumpsuit.

He swallowed hard. Well, now or never. He began to undo his boots and then his slacks when he caught Bruce’s expression of wonder and mild amusement.

Shit.

“Those don’t come off,” Bruce said in an even tone.

“Er—” Chuck started. He flushed. The game was up? No— maybe he could convince the Ranger, if… but fuck, all the methods of persuasion he knew where sexual, not military.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. He took his handgun out of its holster and moved it towards Chuck—

Chuck froze. Bruce was gonna shoot him? Right there!? He opened his mouth to say just about anything—beg, confess, proposition, whatever—

“Make and model?” Bruce asked.

“H-huh?” Chuck stammered. Then realized, as soon as he’d processed the question, he didn’t have a clue about the answer. It looked like a gun. Small. Stupid. He should know guns. His father used to be in organized crime. Fuck, _he_ was in organized crime. The PPDC’s pet service couldn’t be remotely legal. Chuck briefly considered lying. Could be a lucky guess to get it right. Could also piss off Bruce even more.

“... SIG Sauer, uh…” Chuck mumbled, then fell silent. Great. He found the third worst option between guessing and shutting up.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. He stayed silent for a good minute, observing Chuck.

Finally, the Ranger put his gun back in its holster. “The mission starts in three minutes, _private_. Let’s get your gear on and move out.”

Bruce swiftly and efficiently hoisted the armor onto Chuck’s body, and he was in full gear in under a minute. Chuck tried not to fidget too much even as he was hyperaware of how close Bruce was and how much that affected him. This reacting to people thing was still strange and made him a little angry, reminded him of how he had always been out of control and apparently still was, even now. That his body didn’t belong to himself.

Bruce clasped a firm hand down on his shoulder. “All set. Follow me.”

Chuck swallowed hard. He didn’t know why Bruce was letting him come on the mission. It had to be obvious that Chuck didn’t know shit and wasn’t who he was pretending to be, right? Maybe Bruce figured they could always use more bodies? Or maybe it was them being Drift Compatible? Chuck had felt it, maybe Bruce had too. But that was just attraction, not telepathy or some shit.

Whatever it was, Chuck was thankful for it. He kept his focus fixed on Bruce as he followed the older, taller Ranger through the busy Shatterdome main hall. Squadrons of soldiers jogged towards the helipad gates in a synchronized rhythm. High above them on the outer wall hung a digital clock, numbers flickering as they counted away the seconds until the commencement of the third phase of  Operation Lion’s Den.

He could still bail. He could still tell Bruce this was a mistake, Chuck had no idea what he was doing, he had zero training, he shouldn’t even be outside LOCCENT. But something inside him simply wouldn’t budge.

And then his window of opportunity closed as they ran up to the exit and Chuck saw the towering silhouette of Aleksis Kaidonovsky on the helipad outside.

“Move, move!,” he barked, his voice carrying through the thunder and rain that was going on outside. “Unit alpha-two, you are with me!”

“That’s us,” Bruce said under his breath.

Chuck ducked his head further into his helmet and pulled up his face mask, grateful for the anonymity the armor offered. Aleksis wouldn’t recognize him.

Then they left the protection of the Shatterdome, and the cold, the wind and the rain slammed into him, staggering him in his step. Chuck bit down and braced himself, forcing his feet to move along with the rest of the unit, the helicopter getting closer and closer, Aleksis looming next to it as men entered its cargo bay.

A lightning strike nearby dramatically lit up the sky and Chuck shivered as if it had struck his bones. Bruce yelled something at him, but he couldn’t hear it, the wind and rain hammering down on his helmet. Chuck already felt cold and soaked to the bone and the mission had yet to truly start. He grimaced. It was hardly the most miserable he’d felt. This was nothing compared to crawling around naked on the cement floor of a cold dungeon and having to shit in a bucket. As he followed the rest of the unit into the transport helicopter and strapped into one of the seats on the side, Chuck started to feel oddly excited; but at the back of his mind, he was trying hard not to think of how stupid an idea it was to go into a military field operation with zero training and tolerance of violent sexual acts as his only skill to fall back on.

Chuck felt the blood in his body sink down as the helicopter took off. The wind slammed into the heli as soon as it lost contact with the ground, the vehicle reeling back and sideways sharply. Chuck’s stomach churned from the G-forces as the heli’s strong motors fought back against the weather, getting it to move up and towards Kowloon Bay. _This was it._ There was absolutely no way back for him, now. He clasped tighter to the rifle Bruce had shoved into his hands at the armory. It gave him little comfort; he didn’t even know how to use the damn thing. Sure, aim, pull the trigger; he’d seen movies. But he wasn’t ready to shoot anyone, would probably only chase a bullet through his own foot if he tried. He was pretending, playing at being a soldier. Except this wasn’t playtime, this wasn’t a videogame. This was the real thing, and he was scared shitless.

 

**Scene 74 - Herc**

“Good news,” Newt said.

Herc stared at the bright lights above him, circles, slowly spinning in his field of vision. He opened his mouth to speak, but his lips barely moved, and he made a gurgling sound.

“Ah yeah, no talking, really. You’re paralyzed. Sadly. Hearing you scream would’ve been fun. But the risk is too high. Can’t transplant an organ or two if you're gonna wriggle all over the place! Way too messy.”

The platform Herc was lying on rose with a mechanic hum and then slowly began to turn. Transplant what? What the fuck was that crazy alien bastard gonna do to him—and he couldn’t move, couldn't even scream or protest.

“So the good news is, you’ve been approved for some wonderful extras! You were causing me some headaches, running around with your free will and all that, but that’ll be fixed soon,” Newt went on.

He crouched down and held a big glass jar in front of Herc’s face. Inside it was something that looked, for starters, disgusting. It looked like a giant leech, black and oily, littered with purple and blue veins, had way too many tentacles coming out of it and it seemed to throb and move as if it was alive on its own.

“Look at this beauty. I call her Eureka. Ten billion exomutant-compatible neurons, a mutavorian gland, a hive neural node and a big freaking cortex to jam it all into your central nervous system! Dude, I want one of these. I’m jealous, I really am. But higher ups, right, you know how it is. They see potential, blah blah blah. Enough talk, though.” Newt patted the jar gently, almost lovingly. A single tendril unlatched itself from the tentacle-spine thing and sought out the heat of his hand, and Newt smiled. “She’s getting all impatient. Can’t wait to be inside you. And we don’t wanna keep a lady waiting.”

Newt moved out of Herc’s field of vision and a monitor below Herc lit up.

Herc saw himself lying on the table. Strapped down, several IV drips going into his body; no concern for privacy, stark naked on the world’s most freaky-ass looking operating table, a breathing tube going into his mouth— which explained why his face felt so fucking weird—and a catheter going out of his dick. Awesome. He really wanted to fucking scream.

Newt made a tut-tut sound. “Now now, not too much terror. Don’t wanna jeopardize this surgery.”

He opened the valve of one of the IV drips for a few seconds, the clear fluid cascading down the tube into his body and Herc felt a coldness surge through his right arm followed by a strange sense of calm. Which he rationally knew was bullshit. Newt must’ve jacked him up with some kind of tranquilizer. And he knew Newt wanted him to see and remember all of this. That’s why he was conscious, that’s why there was a monitor in front of his face. Just to fuck with Herc’s mind some more. Herc didn’t know when the next opportunity to kill Newt would come, but he was going to fully take it to the best of his ability.

That was the last clear thought in his mind.

The next two hours were filled with a horror movie starring himself; he watched, numb and powerless and helpless as Newt violated his body, cutting him open from the base of his skull to the base of his spine. He watched as Newt pulled apart his skin and muscle with surgical clamps, exposing the bone and nerves underneath. And the most terrifying thing was that it looked like it should hurt but it didn’t and his mind couldn’t process that fact and all he wanted to do was scream and he couldn’t. Herc wanted to close his eyes but he was unable to look away, even though the sight of his body being ripped open was horrifying, he needed to see what Newt was doing to him. Needed to know what was being done to him. He had to be a witness to it.

Herc watched as Newt attached the writhing black tentacle-like organ to his spine; watched as small tendrils grew from it, clasping onto him and digging into his flesh, wrapping around his spine, tangling themselves around his nerves. Herc didn’t know how it was possible for him to be conscious during all this without feeling pain. Maybe he was having a nightmare after all.

He watched as Newt sewed him back up, meticulously stitching up his back, leaving the alien organ inside his body; Herc could see it move underneath his own skin. He wanted to throw up. But he was utterly helpless.

Finally, Newt faced him again.

“Did you have fun, big guy? You can’t see that kind of miracle on the Discovery Channel!” Newt moved his face closer to Herc’s and his eyes shifted, turning into the yellow lizard-like eyes Herc had seen before.

“You have received a gift,” Newt hissed. “A gift you do not deserve. I will not hesitate to rip it out of you if you waste this blessing from our masters.”

Newt’s eyes went back to normal, and he leaned back. On the monitor, Herc saw him move around the table, removing the tubes and wires in his body one by one.

Herc couldn’t quite think anymore. He felt weird. Really weird. Everything was slowly getting brighter, louder. Newt’s face looked fucked-up, Newt’s body smelled like it was rotting. He didn’t know if he was awake or dreaming. There were whispers in the back of his mind, first two, then eight, then twenty, soon hundreds and thousands and millions, whispering in a language he didn’t know until he did, until the sounds became syllables and the syllables became words and words became a history that wasn’t his; a history of war and famine and blood and death, a history of generations and millennia and eons; ultimately, a history of survival. Finally, Herc knew. He understood. And he gave up whatever was left of his free will to them.

 

 **Scene 75—Raleigh**

Raleigh hadn’t understood before how comforting darkness was. It wrapped around him like a thick heavy blanket of nothingness. And every time he woke up the darkness was ripped away from him, replaced by cold and pain and sharpness. Raleigh couldn’t recall a day where he had woken up in warmth and safety. The ache of cuffs around his wrists and ankles was constant when he was not asleep, the dull pain in his back and abdomen a reminder of his body no longer belonging to him. He’d lost track of time. Whenever he was able to focus enough he saw things so strange, he might as well be asleep. Faces and bodies that barely looked human, voices in a language he didn’t understand. When he was able to think coherently, he found himself saying over and over that this was all a dream, a nightmare, and he would wake up eventually. That’s all it was, a dream.

Then one day, the darkness pulled away again and was replaced by wakefulness. Real, total wakefulness; not the blurred hallucinatory state he had been in before. Raleigh was keenly aware now, all of his senses alert.

The room he was in was cold, and he was naked but for his wrists and ankles which were cuffed to whatever kind of structure he was lying on. The flat surface of it had warmed to his skin slightly and it didn’t give way to his body, the texture rough. Wood, maybe. The cuffs were softer as well, not steel but more like leather. His balance was a little off, and Raleigh wondered if the table was level to the ground. He was gagged with a leather bit, his teeth pressing against the thick fabric that gave way a little. It was difficult to swallow and Raleigh could feel his cheeks being wet from saliva.

His eyes weren’t covered, though. And whilst the room was dim his vision was getting used to the light level and he could make out the ceiling and a part of the wall opposite him when he lifted his head a little. And what he saw was unlike any room he’d been in at this point. The walls were covered in strange carvings that lit up a faint blue, providing the slight illumination that allowed Raleigh to make them out. Some carvings looked like diagrams—circles and lines, some intertwining, others running parallel. Other carvings seemed a kind of writing, symbols that Raleigh didn’t recognize aligned in rows. There was something eerie about it all, like the designs didn’t belong, and somehow the sight of them filled Raleigh with fear.

Where _was_ he? Was this still Hannibal’s dungeon? He coughed, teeth digging into the leather gag, spit sliding out of the corners of his mouth.

“Subject is awake,” a rasping deep voice echoed through the room, seeming to come from far away, like over an intercom.

A few seconds later the frame of a door lit up just at the corner of Raleigh’s vision, and a familiar silhouette stepped through. He’d spent too much time here to not recognise Hannibal Chau’s presence.

“Becket, Becket boy,” Hannibal spoke.

Raleigh shivered. Good things didn’t happen to him when Hannibal was nearby. At least with Herc, things had been… they hadn’t been as bad as they could’ve been. Raleigh remembered what had happened before, and he hoped Herc was okay. A part of him still hoped, fervently wished, that this was all some bizarre hallucination. After all, what he’d seen—how Newt had changed, that wasn’t… something like that wasn’t possible.

Maybe he’d dreamed it all whilst being strapped to this thing? It would explain how blurry everything was before.

A blue, round lamp flickered to life above Raleigh, bathing him in glaring blue light. Hannibal walked towards him and leaned forward, the contrast of shadows and light on his face making it look more crude and threatening than usual.

“We’re gonna have to rush things along, kid,” Hannibal said. “You’re not fully prepped and trained yet, but it’ll have to do.”

Hannibal looked towards the door and Raleigh followed his gaze. But the light above him blotted out his vision for the rest of the room, and he couldn’t see who approached.

Raleigh heard a creaking, rustling noise coming from the doorway. Footsteps like sharp tacks, like they were wearing heels, and with every step the creaking and rustling came closer, became louder. Their breath was rasping, and something about the noises made Raleigh think this person was big. Tall, wide. Even bigger than Hannibal Chau, and that guy was huge. But despite all his senses, he still wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

Some _thing_ stepped into the light above him. It didn’t look right, like all the angles were wrong. Like there was too much leg and arm and not enough chest. The sinking feeling Raleigh had had when looking at the designs on the walls doubled, then tripled as his eyes took in more of what he saw and his brain scrambled to make sense of it.

Its eyes focused, blinked from where they were in its grotesque skull. All _six_ of them. The creature’s head had a large wedge in the middle, like an axe blade sticking out from between the top of its skull to where its nose should be; two rows of sharp, knife-like teeth stuck out from its jaws, thin lips only barely covering them, a purple tongue flicking out of its mouth. It _smelled_ strange, awful—the scent made Raleigh think of a dark ocean, blackened by an oil spill, littered with dead birds.

Raleigh felt like it was not only looking at him, it was looking _through_ him; he wasn’t wearing anything but the creature made him feel naked in a horrible way. Like his skin was being flayed off his body, like his chest was being cracked open, like this _thing_ could see into the most horrible, rawest parts of Raleigh, yanking them out to the surface.

Raleigh’s teeth jammed hard into the gag as he screamed out of pure instinct, thrashing in his cuffs. His whole being wanted to _get the fuck away_ , the most pure, basal urge he had ever felt, like the part of his brain that was the most primal revolted against the being before it. It was as if Death itself was staring into his soul and he couldn’t bear one second of it.

His scream was desperate, his body convulsing.

The creature reached out a claw to Raleigh’s head, three talons landing on his jaw. A jolt of pain shot through his neck, sharp and deep, and then his body stilled. His mind started to wander a little. Had the _thing_ injected him with something?

Raleigh heard Hannibal’s howling laugh coming from behind him, out of his range of vision, but it was oddly comforting. It was familiar. Something he knew. Something… human.

“Subject is ready,” the creature spoke, its voice rasping and whirring, as if it wasn’t made for the sounds it was trying to produce. “I will create the mark.”

Raleigh was absolutely terrified. Whatever the creature had injected him with was already wearing off. He had to be dreaming, none of this was real, it couldn’t be, things like that didn’t _exist._

The creature’s claws slid up his thighs, its talons leaving thin red welts behind. Raleigh couldn’t lift his head up far enough to see, but he felt how one claw grabbed a hold of his flaccid cock and a new wave of ice-cold terror ran through him.

He tried to scream, to yell, to beg; saying no, please, stop, but it all came out as muffled groans through the gag.

“Sit still, kid,” Hannibal Chau said. “You don’t want ‘m to cut off your dick, do you? Hahaha.”

At that, the creature bristled. “Silence,” it ordered with a hiss.

It focused on Raleigh again and brought up its other claw. From the edge of his vision Raleigh could see how from one of its talons a thin needle protruded slowly, and the creature jammed it into its own arm. The needle filled with a dark liquid. Then the creature moved its claw to press the needle just under the head of Raleigh’s dick, pushing down with force.

Raleigh screamed as he felt the needle break skin and sharp, white-hot pain shot through his cock and up through his entire body.

The needle slid out, scratched across the surface of the incredibly sensitive skin, jabbed into his skin again, and then the pain overwhelmed him, became almost dull, like it was drowning him. Raleigh could feel darkness crawl up at the edges of his consciousness, and it would be so tempting to let it in, to let go, to leave this place. Raleigh let out a desperate sob into the gag.

The creature’s claws drew back and it lifted its gaze away from Raleigh. It felt like he could breathe again as the creature withdrew further.

“The mark has been made,” the creature spoke. “Resume subject preparation.”

It stepped out of the light, and walked back towards the door, its clawed feet scraping over the concrete floor. The door slid open, and for a second the creature’s bizarre silhouette was drawn starkly against the bright hallway lights, before vanishing into darkness.

Hannibal turned his attention towards Raleigh again, a sly grin playing across his lips. “Well well, look at you,” he said, stepping closer and trailing a finger over the underside of Raleigh’s soft cock. “You know, our other pet had to work a lot harder than you to earn this.”

Raleigh winced. His cock was still sore and sensitive, throbbing with pain like it was inflamed. This was all too fucked up. There was no way any of this was happening. He hoped he was going to wake up soon, any second now, in his own bed, his own house, none of this having ever happened. He coughed and sniffed, tears welling up in his eyes and sliding down his cheeks.

Hannibal reached to undo the gag and Raleigh gasped for air as his nose was clogging up from crying.

“Maybe you’re wondering what all this is for,” Hannibal said. “And what the fuck you just saw walking in and out of this room.”

“I just want it to stop,” Raleigh whispered, his throat too raw from screaming to properly speak. “Please… make it stop. I’ll do anything. Please.”

Hannibal narrowed his eyes. He loosened the bindings on Raleigh’s legs, then moved to undo Raleigh’s wrists. Without anything holding him in place Raleigh slowly slid off the wooden table, downwards, his body too worn out to put up much resistance. He slumped to the floor as Hannibal came to stand in front of him.

“Please,” Raleigh rasped. He couldn’t even bring himself to look up. He was too weak. The cold, rough floor beneath him was oddly comforting, supporting him, and he felt like sinking into it and disappearing entirely.

Hannibal weaved a hand into Raleigh’s hair and yanked his head up, meeting his eyes. “Becket boy, you have a choice here,” Hannibal started.

Raleigh squeezed his eyes, blinked to get the tears and dirt out. A choice? What kind of choice did he have in this place?

Hannibal’s other hand came to close around his jaw. “You’re going to die here,” Hannibal said. “Or, you’re gonna live. It’s up to you.”

Raleigh’s vision was blurry, his head aching and hazy like it was filled with thick cotton, his body weak and in pain. He didn’t understand what Hannibal was getting at. He didn’t understand any of this. He felt like he was already dying.

Hannibal let go, and Raleigh fell to the floor again. He was still too weak to move. But not weak enough to notice that Hannibal left the door open behind him.

As Hannibal’s steps faded away, there was only silence left, and all Raleigh could hear was his own ragged breathing, the ratcheting of his heart that wouldn’t calm down. And out of the corner of his eye, the bright rectangle of the doorway, a beacon, an invitation.

Did it mean freedom? Raleigh tried to think. The pain in his crotch was spreading, moving; his thighs and stomach hurt now, cramping tightly, making him shiver. And unexpectedly acting like a sharpness to the fog in his head, an edge he could use to focus. Hannibal had _left_ the door open. For him. It wasn’t like he could escape, right? There would be chains waiting for him again, at some point. He’d come to expect that much. He held no illusion about that anymore.

But the longer he lay on the floor, the more impatient he got. The pain wasn’t going away, yet he could slowly feel strength returning to his body, at least enough to sit up and look. He was afraid to see what the creature had done to him, but he _had_ to see.

Raleigh hissed as he carefully took his limp dick into his hand. It hurt so fucking much. He couldn’t recall ever being kicked in the balls, but this seemed nearly that awful.

He could just make out a swollen, darker blotch just below the head of his dick—a certain shape to it, like… a tattoo, or something.

Raleigh narrowed his eyes. Chuck had had a tattoo, on his lower back. He remembered. He’d barely noticed, at first; the faint white lines had only become clearer after Chuck had spent some days in the sun.

But this kind of thing—did Chuck… had he experienced something like this? He knew Chuck had been with Hannibal, too. Hannibal had said that their other pet had worked harder to earn it. Maybe he was talking about Chuck.

The thought made something in Raleigh’s chest twist up tight, like a fist closed around his heart. “No,” he said, his voice coming out rough.

He remembered the day that there was a naked boy in a cage in his office room. The letter that had come with. How he’d freed Chuck and how Chuck had _thanked_ him by—

“Shit,” Raleigh said. “Shit, no…”

Like it was finally dawning on him, now. That this wasn’t some accident, some weird experiment, some kind of fucked-up nightmare he was having. This was what Chuck had gone through. This was _exactly_ like it. This was what had turned Chuck into a screaming, crying mess, what he couldn’t talk about —

This is what had been done to Chuck, Raleigh realized. Hannibal had done the same to him.

And with that realization came the next—that this whole time, Raleigh had still seen himself as someone… someone saner, better than Chuck, someone older and more experienced, someone who could take care of Chuck.

He almost laughed, but it came out as a sob. He wasn’t saner or better. He was _worse_. He was disgusting. He’d willingly crawled up to Herc, begging; he’d almost _liked_ it. Wanted it. Raleigh had thought he was the better but it was Chuck who was more experienced, who had been with the PPDC, fuck, even what Yancy did to him—it had given Chuck training. Skill. And Raleigh? He was nothing. He was worthless. He was worthless then and worthless now. He’d never been able to really help Chuck, really take care of him. He’d just been trying to make himself feel better. _Look, I can support this basket case. I can even fool myself thinking we’re in love. I’m so awesome._

His entire life, looking back, was useless. He’d lived off his trust fund, partying, modeling when he felt like it. He didn’t have to work a day in his life if he didn’t want to. Yancy had taken care of all the business shit and Raleigh could do what he wanted. And he had. He’d left. He’d done enough for Jazmine to satisfy his guilt and then he’d left her, over and over; and then with Chuck, too. He’d bailed on Chuck the second he could to party and drink and fuck and —

And here he was. Fucked, in every way imaginable. He wasn’t anyone, worth anything. Chuck would be better off without him. Yancy too. Then the two of them could have their… whatever it was. Raleigh would just be in the way. Jaz would be better off with them, too. She didn’t need a brother who only helped her halfway and left her alone in the shadows of their own home.

Raleigh’s entire body lurched as if railing against these thoughts, these feelings. But now that they were there he couldn’t stop them; they were washing over him like a sickness, making him nauseous, and he felt bile rise in his throat. He tried to hold it in, bracing his jaw, swallowing—but it just wanted out, _out_ , this disgusting, rotten feeling of who he was—or perhaps that he wasn’t and should never be, never have been. That was what the creature had seen when it had looked inside him. That’s what it had seen and had dragged up from the pit of Raleigh’s soul: that deep, deep down, Raleigh no longer believed he had the right to exist at all.

He threw up, bile and whatever fluids had been left in his stomach pushing themselves out of his body. It wasn’t much and it tasted as horrible as he felt, and in that sense, it almost felt _right_ , and Raleigh retched again and again until he couldn’t anymore, and all his body would give him was spit.

He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. The room now smelled of his vomit, but there was a strange clarity to his mind now, and this time his body moved when he wanted to stand up.

Shivering and coughing, Raleigh stumbled towards the brightness of the open doorway.

Hannibal’s words were ringing in his mind, as clearly as if the man was standing next to him and saying them all over again.

_You have a choice here._

For the first time since he was brought to the dungeon, Raleigh felt like he did.

 

**Scene 76—Jazmine**

Jazmine tried to scream, but it felt like an enormous weight was holding her down—she couldn’t move her arms, move her head, and could barely breathe. It was only when the faces of her friends appeared above her that she calmed down a little.

“Jaz!? Jaz, what’s going on?” So-Yi called out, and her voice seemed to come from far away.

Yuna frowned. “I’m going to get Kaori,” she said, and vanished again.

“Yes,” So-Yi said, bringing her hand to Jazmine’s head. “Jazmine. Can you hear me?”

Jazmine tried to focus, even as So-Yi’s face swam in her vision, her eyes trying to roll back in her head, her eyelids so heavy it took every ounce of willpower she had to keep them open. But she couldn’t close them, she didn’t want to go back asleep —

Pain bloomed at the base of her spine and shot through her entire body, and this time she found her voice, yelling out. So-Yi’s expression became more worried.

“Yuna!” she called out behind her. “Hurry up already!”

Images danced in front of Jazmine’s vision, hallucinations, shadows of her nightmare. Raleigh, it was Raleigh, in so much pain, so cold, so far away—it felt like he was dying and ripping something out of her with him.

“Lee, Lee, please—no,” Jazmine babbled, her arms swatting at a picture only she could see, some kind of terrible monster. “No!!”

There was a cold hand pressed to her temple and for a moment, the images subsided, the panic became less.

“Jazmine,” Kaori’s voice came, like a welcome cool breeze. “Follow the sound of my voice. That’s it. Feel my hand. Come back to us. Just focus on my voice, Jazmine.”

Jazmine blinked, and followed Kaori’s instructions as they were repeated to her over and over in the same calm, cool voice. Finally, she was able to focus, and her gaze connected with Kaori’s.

“It’s Lee,” Jazmine said. “He’s hurt, really bad.” Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. “We have to help him.”

“Jazmine. Do you know where you are?” Kaori asked, ignoring Jazmine’s plea. Her hand stayed on Jazmine’s head, cool, soft and soothing.

“Y-yes,” Jazmine stammered. “I’m at the Academy.” Her heart was still hammering in her chest, and darkness crept up at the edge of her vision.

“That’s right,” Kaori said. “Now I want you to focus on being here. Feel my hand on your temple. Feel the sheets of your bed on your skin, see the color of my eyes.”

Jazmine nodded slowly. It was difficult to focus, but anything was better than closing her eyes again. If she did, she was sure to fall back into her nightmares.

“Help her sit up,” Kaori said, keeping her gaze locked with Jazmine’s. So-Yi and Yuna stood at Jazmine’s side and lifted her upright. They exchanged looks of worry with one another. What was wrong with their friend?

“There we go,” Kaori continued. “Just breathe and listen to my voice. So-Yi—will you go to Stephanie, and tell her to prepare the Sanctuary?”

So-Yi looked a little confused. She’d never heard of something called the Sanctuary. But right now, she was very worried about her friend, and her curiosity would have to wait.

“Yes, miss,” So-Yi said, and with a curt nod, she left the dormitory.

Yuna seemed to be ahead of things, and had brought Jazmine’s wheelchair to the side of the bed.

“Very good,” Kaori complimented her. She kept her attention on Jazmine, and repeated her earlier question. “Jazmine, where are you?”

“I am at the Academy,” Jazmine answered, still a little dazed but becoming more aware as she listened to everyone. What was the Sanctuary? It was the first time she had heard it mentioned inside the Academy. But she couldn’t think much further than that—ripples of pain were still cascading through her body, carrying with them the terrible sense that her brother was hurt badly.

“Focus on my voice,” Kaori repeated, and gestured for Yuna to help her. Together they lifted Jazmine into the wheelchair.

“You’re going to be okay, Jaz,” Yuna said. “We’re all here to help.”

At Yuna’s words, Jazmine felt a flutter of warmth her chest, and it did help. “Thank you,” she whispered. Yuna grabbed Jaz’ hand and squeezed.

Kaori and Yuna took Jazmine through the halls outside the dormitory, and then further—talking to her the whole time, Yuna about little nothings that had happened earlier that day. She’d found a frog in the yard with weird colors, So-Yi had won their last sword fighting match but only because Yuna hadn’t slept well and she’d had an off day, she’d caught Miss Kennedy saying something rude about the groundskeeper and laughed.

Now and then Kaori would ask Jazmine that same question—where she was. It all helped to take Jazmine’s mind off of the pain, but it didn’t make it go away. And the whole time there was still this deep, nauseating fear, something that made her stomach twist and her mind want to turn inside-out on itself. She tried hard to not think of it, but that only made her think of it more, so she tried to focus on the voices of her teacher and her friend.

Finally they came to a large door. It occurred to Jazmine she hadn’t ever really seen it before, even though she had been in this hallway many times. The way the door looked it didn’t even attract attention to itself, like it was just a part of the background, not a doorway; it looked weathered, old; it was covered in dust and moss. So-Yi, Stephanie and Kennedy were waiting for the in front of it.

Kennedy stepped forward first, kneeling down in front of Jazmine, putting a hand on her knee. “Jazmine,” she said. “It’s going to be okay.”

Jazmine nodded slowly. She really wanted to believe that.

“So-Yi and Yuna, I’m sorry, but you girls must remain outside,” Stephanie said, placing a hand on So-Yi’s shoulder and nudging her towards Yuna a little.

But So-Yi spun around, frowning. “What? No!” She folded her arms and glared at her teachers defiantly.

“We’re not leaving her,” Yuna chimed in, stepping forward to stand next to So-Yi. Kennedy and Stephanie were surprised at that—usually the two of them never agreed on anything.

So-Yi puffed up her chest, trying to put on her bravest face. “I’m not going anywhere!” she exclaimed.

“Kaori?” Kennedy said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, but —”

“Hmmm,” Stephanie mumbled, momentarily in thought. “It’s unusual. But it could help.”

Kaori placed a hand on Jazmine’s shoulder, and moved to stand in front of her, meeting Jazmine’s gaze again. “Jazmine,” she began. “We have a ritual that may help you. But it is also dangerous. Not just for you but for everyone who takes part in it. Do you want your friends to help you?”

“I… I don’t understand,” Jazmine spoke softly, turning her head to avoid Kaori's eyes. “You mean So-Yi and Yuna will get hurt too?”

“They may be,” Kaori said. “We will try not to let that happen.”

“Then I… I can’t,” Jazmine said, shaking her head. She didn't want her friends to get hurt because of her. “I can’t let—”

“Nonsense!” So-Yi exclaimed, and she walked towards Jazmine, planting her hands firmly on her hips. “We can do it! Yuna and I are strong enough.”

Yuna also turned to Jazmine, staying quiet. Then she walked forward and grabbed Jazmine’s hands.

“Jaz,” Yuna began, leaning forward a bit. “You don’t have to protect us or anyone else anymore. You’ve done that enough already. Now it is our turn to protect you.”

“Yeah,” So-Yi pitched in, nodding fervently. “You need to let us help you, okay?”

Jazmine’s lip trembled, looking up at her friends. Who were so decidedly willing to risk getting hurt to help her. Who refused to leave her side.

“You… you’d do that for me?” Jazmine said, her voice cracking, tears filling up her eyes.

“Absolutely,” So-Yi replied.

“Without a doubt,” Yuna confirmed.

Jazmine bit her lip, her chest aching. She brought the heels of her hands up to her eyes trying to wipe away the tears. She didn’t know what to say. She’d never received this much kindness—except maybe from Chuck. She wasn’t even sure she deserved it. But… it still made her happy.

“I think it’s time to proceed,” Kaori said. Stephanie and Kennedy nodded. So-Yi and Yuna each took place at Jazmine’s side.

Stephanie and Kennedy placed their hands on the door—and just like the temple on the outside, the weathered face of the door vanished, revealing shimmering wood with elaborate carvings on them, as polished and new as if it was completed the day before; the rust on the metalwork gone, and dust falling away into nothing.

The door opened, silent and smooth, revealing the room called Sanctuary within.

Kaori stepped inside first, and as she did, the room lit up. So-Yi and Yuna followed, each of them at a side of Jazmine’s, slowly pushing her forward. When the three of them had entered the room, Stephanie and Kennedy finally walked inside as well, closing the door behind them.

The Sanctuary room was circular. Twelve beds were arranged around a pillar in the middle, with the pillows of the beds towards the center. The pillar lit up bright in purple and blue colors and from it several tubes and wires extended towards the beds.

So-Yi and Yuna looked around in amazement, clearly having seen nothing like it before. Jazmine, however, stayed quiet and subdued. She was still in a lot of pain, but something about the room eased her. Like she sensed that this was the right place for her to be at this time.

“What is this?!” So-Yi exclaimed, staying firmly at Jazmine’s side despite her obvious curiosity.

“Yeah,” Yuna added. “It looks nothing like the rest of the Academy.”

“Everywhere else is all rocks and books and stuff,” So-Yi replied. “This is all… techl-like.”

Kaori walked towards the bed that was exactly opposite the door, behind the pillar. “I will tell you soon. Bring Jazmine towards this bed and lay her down.”

So-Yi and Yuna nodded, pushing Jazmine forward, then carefully lifting her out of her chair and onto the bed.

“Jaz, are you okay?” Yuna asked.

“You’re quiet,” So-Yi added.

“Mmmhmm,” Jaz mumbled. “I feel… tired.”

“Thank you, girls,” Kaori said. “Now… you should lay down on the beds next to Jazmine.”

So-Yi and Yuna glanced at each other, and nodded. So-Yi moved to the bed on the left, and Yuna the bed on the right.

“Okay, now what?” So-Yi said, still impatient and curious.

“Ssssshhh, let them explain already,” Yuna admonished her.

Jazmine’s eyes were falling shut, the bed making her feel heavy and warm. It was nice, and the pain she’d been feeling seemed more distant.

Stephanie and Kennedy had moved to lay down on beds as well, Stephanie on the one next to So-Yi, and Kennedy on the one next to Yuna.

“Now,” Kaori said, as she walked towards the middle. “Soon, I will activate the Sanctuary, and many things will become clear to you. But I will explain a little, first.”

Her hands touched the pillar, and more patterns of blue lit up.

“So far in your education, you have not learned much about the Kaiju yet. But you are about to.”

The edges of the beds began to glow faintly.

“You see… the Kaiju are our enemies. They are the enemies of all of humankind, and the world.” Kaori continued to draw and touch patterns on the pillar. “The Kaiju have been here for a long time, and they have tried to change humans, to make them their slaves.”

Kaori moved away from the pillar as the bed opposite Jazmine between the pillar and the door of the room began to lit up, and she laid down on the bed as well.

To Jazmine, Kaori’s voice seemed to come from very far away, but Kaori’s words reached her, slowly.

“But the Kaiju could not foresee all changes. They are from darkness, and cannot see in the light. And as we grew they could not see us.”

“We are the Sirens,” Kaori spoke. “We are the sisters, mothers and daughters of the Earth, and we will not let the Kaiju take it.”

The pillar sent a pulse from itself to the connected beds, bathing the room in light.

“What’s happ—” So-Yi attempted to say, but then, everything vanished.

_So-Yi opened her eyes. The six of them were standing in a large circle around Jazmine, who was sitting down on the floor. A large black tree sprouted from her back, up and up and up, its blackened branches extending out and upwards and covering the sky. She wanted to speak, but couldn’t; she wanted to look away from Jazmine, but couldn’t._

_Distantly, she heard Kaori speak._

_“Jazmine needs your support. No matter what happens, accept it. No matter what you see or feel, accept it. No matter how much it hurts, accept it. This is the only way.”_

_If So-Yi were able to steel herself any further, she would have. She was determined to help Jazmine, no matter what._

_* * *_

_When Jazmine’s eyes opened, she was surrounded by warmth, and softness. She looked up, and it was a face she did and did not recognise; a face she had only seen in photos._

_“...Maman?”_

_Dominique smiled. “Ma chère,” she said, and her voice was almost like a song, or a musical instrument._

_Then, Jazmine became sad. She wasn’t sure why she was here, but she knew there was something she was very sad about. Tears began to roll down her cheeks._

_“My lovely Jazmine,” Dominique said, and swiped away Jazmine’s tears with her thumbs. “Tell me why you are so sad.”_

_“It’s Raleigh,” Jazmine said, before she even thought of her brother. As she spoke his name, her chest ached. “Maman, he is…” Her voice choked. A sadness welled up inside her that she could not find words for, rising up, spilling more tears from her eyes._

_Dominique nodded. “My son. Your brother, Jazmine. He is in a lot of pain.”_

_“Yes,” Jazmine sobbed, burrowing her face in her mother’s soft chest. “I can’t help him! I have to, it’s so much… he is all alone!”_

_Dominique’s hands stroked through her hair. “He is not, ma chère.”_

_At that, Jazmine was surprised, and she leaned back. “He isn’t?”_

_Dominique nodded with a smile. “We’re all connected, Jazmine. We are never truly alone. Do you know where we are?”_

_Jazmine shook her head._

_“Look up,” Dominique said, and Jazmine did._

_And from them a white tree grew upwards, extended into the sky into thousands of branches, and she could see the branch of Raleigh, and Yancy, and their father, and Chuck, and then her friends, So-Yi, Yuna, Kaori, Stephanie, Kennedy—and then the names of others appeared in her mind—Mako, Stacker, Hu, Hercules, Jin, Tamsin, Aleksis, Scott, Bruce, Trevin, Cheung, Sasha. And even more; Adam, Caitlin, Sergio, Lo Hin, Xichi, Gunnar, Vic, Ilisapie, Zeke. And where the tree seemed to meet the sky it started to wave and pulse, like the ocean; back and forth, like a stream or a river. Jazmine couldn't tell where the tree ended and the sky began; was it even the sky she was looking at? She felt suddenly disoriented. But what she could see is that they were connected, from down where they were standing all the way to up there, to all those people._

_“What is all this?” Jazmine asked._

_Dominique smiled. “This is the Drift.”_

_But just as Jazmine stared in wonder, dark streaks appeared in the stream above, and the tree began to blacken, to rot, and it looked as if blood was seeping down its branches towards them._

_“Maman, no!” Jazmine called out._

_“It’s okay, Jazmine,” Dominique said. “Yes, you see it; there is a lot of pain in the Drift. There is a great darkness in it as much as there is light.”_

_She cupped Jazmine’s face in her hands. “But you, my beautiful, lovely, so generous child—you do not have to soak it all up.”_

_“But if I don’t, then they will—” Jazmine stammered._

_“No, they won’t,” Dominique interrupted her. “Jazmine, you can see them all, you can feel them all. But you are not responsible. You have made your gift your curse.”_

_“I don’t understand,” Jazmine said._

_“You have to let them go,” Dominique said. “You must stop drawing it towards you. You see, Jazmine—you were supposed to be up there, in the Drift. Instead, you have created the tree away from them... all by yourself. This is not how it should be.”_

_Her mother vanished, and Jazmine cried out._

On their beds, So-Yi and Yuna echoed Jazmine’s cry.

_Yuna still couldn’t speak, couldn’t move—and it was terrifying. The branches from the tree that grew from Jazmine had extended down, had curled around their arms and legs and necks, and it was like she was suffocating. Images had flooded her mind, terrible things, images of sadness and anger and loneliness and betrayal, images of violence and violation and corruption and death._

_Accept it, Kaori had said, and Yuna tried—and she was sad herself, for if this was the tree that came from Jazmine then Jazmine had been carrying this with her this whole time, all alone, and it wasn’t fair. And that’s why she wanted to accept it, too._

_Jazmine opened her eyes, and saw her friends and teachers around her. She saw the tree, attacking them, strangling them._

_“Stop!!!” she called out. “Stop doing it to them!”_

_Her mother’s words echoed in her mind. It was her - herself, Jazmine, who had created the tree?_

_But that meant she was hurting her friends right now!_

_And just then, So-Yi and Yuna found they could speak._

_“We are strong enough,” Yuna said._

_“You don’t have to protect us,” So-Yi said. “You’ve done that enough already.”_

_“Now it is our turn to protect you,” they said together._

_Jazmine cried, and saw how her tree was hurting her friends, and almost couldn’t forgive herself. But they kept saying over and over it was okay—and finally, she stopped crying, and somehow, a hint of warmth awakened in her chest again, just as it had before._

_The branches of the tree unfurled from them, back to Jazmine, and then became smaller and smaller, until Jazmine couldn’t see it anymore._

They all woke up together.

Kaori got up first, walking towards Jazmine, as Stephanie got up to tend to So-Yi and Kennedy went to check up on Yuna.

“You girls have done so well,” Kaori said with a rare smile. “We thought it wouldn’t be wise to expose you. But you were what Jazmine needed. You helped her.”

Jazmine sat up on her bed and looked at Kaori. “I get it now,” she said, her voice still weak.

“You do?!” So-Yi exclaimed, hopping off the bed in excitement, and running up to Jazmine.

“Slow down, So-Yi!” Stephanie called out to her. “You may still be weak—”

“We’re fine,” Yuna said, as she also came to stand next to Jazmine, placing a hand on Jazmine’s upper arm.

Kennedy shrugged at Stephanie. “These young ‘uns,” she said. “So much energy.”

“Tell us, Jaz,” Yuna urged her, squeezing Jazmine’s arm lightly “How do you feel?”

“I’m… okay,” Jazmine said, surprised at the fact herself. She looked at Kaori and her brow furrowed in thought. “It’s the same thing, isn’t it? The device at the mansion. My brother’s machine. The Drift. He called it the same.”

“You’re a smart girl, Jazmine,” Kaori said. “Yes. Yancy doesn’t consciously know it, probably. But he has developed the same technology to connect us that the Sanctuary uses.”

“Kaiju technology,” Jazmine said.

“Whaaaat?! I don’t get it!” So-Yi exclaimed, scratching her head in confusion.

Yuna frowned, thinking; unconsciously she placed a hand on her chin and tapped her lower lip with her index finger. “...I think I do.”

“Pffft,” So-Yi scoffed. “I think you’re just pretending you know.”

“Girls,” Stephanie admonished them.

Kaori nodded again. “Yes. This device is Kaiju technology. It allows us to share our minds in some ways.”

“Just like Yancy’s,” Jazmine replied.

“Yes, although his technology can only connect two minds. This—” Kaori gestured towards the pillar, “—is capable of connecting up two twelve minds. We think the Kaiju can do much much more.”

“Kaori,” Jazmine began. “What you said before, about the Kaiju changing humans—and the Sirens… it’s all connected too, right?”

Kaori nodded. “Yes. Jazmine, your family, Chuck and his family, and many others… we have abilities because the Kaiju have changed us at some point, probably several generations ago. We all share the Drift, but we believe the Kaiju do not know of it.”

Jazmine blinked, slowly. “So we have to all work together,” she eventually said.

“Eventually… yes,” Kaori agreed. “But right now, where Chuck and Yancy are, with the PPDC, it isn’t safe from the Kaiju at all. We don’t agree with what they are doing. You felt the pain yourself.”

Jazmine bit her lip. She still remembered it all, but the pain was nearly gone. She’d been thinking about what she’d heard so much she hadn’t even quite realized until now that something was missing. That she felt lighter.

Jazmine narrowed her eyes, smiled, and wiggled her toes. Then tried to move her legs, and to her surprise, they twitched a little. “I can move!!” she cried out.

“Careful,” Stephanie began. “You’re still very weak.”

“But I can do it!!” Jazmine laughed and looked at So-Yi and Yuna, and they smiled right back.

“Does that mean Jaz is cured?” Yuna asked matter-of-factly.

Kaori shook her head. “It’s not that easy, I’m afraid. But this should help, for now. Jazmine—”

“I know,” Jazmine interrupted. “I have to do it myself. Maman showed me.”

“Dominique!?” Kennedy exclaimed. Her brows raised in surprise. “You saw her?”

“It’s true then,” Stephanie said. She rubbed her temples with one hand. “I didn’t think it was possible, but… it’s because we couldn’t find her, we assumed…”

“Jazmine has a much stronger affinity with the Drift than any of us,” Kaori said. “It affects her and she affects it. Maybe that is how.”

Jazmine blinked. “You mean… I thought it was just a dream.”

Kennedy shook her head. “No, if you see people in the Drift… they are there for real. Or their consciousness is, I think.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t really get it either.”

“What Kennedy says is correct,” Kaori sighed. “Perhaps then… after death, our consciousness will linger in the Drift.”

“So… I was really talking to Maman?” Jazmine ventured, her voice trembling a little. So-Yi and Yuna sat on the bed at her sides a little. “I guess it kind of… maybe it makes sense because it always felt like she was with me already," Jazmine continued. "Even though it always hurt, too.”

Kennedy’s expression turned to one of sympathy. “We learned a lot today, huh. But you’ve got to be tired by now.”

Jazmine gave her teacher a weak smile. “Yeah.”

“We should go back to bed,” Yuna agreed.

“Agreed,” Kaori said, and she pushed Jaz’ wheelchair forward.

“No, I wanna try to stand,” Jazmine said, steeling her gaze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Stephanie reacted. She folded her arms, her brows knit in worry. “You have already been through a lot.”

“Miss Stephanie is kind of right,” So-Yi said. “Jaz, you don’t have to push yourself so much, remember? It’s okay.”

Again, Jazmine felt that ache in her chest, something both a little painful and a little happy.

Yuna came to stand next to Jazmine and extended her hand. “Trust us, Jaz. We’re with you.”

Jazmine found her eyes burning a little, her cheeks flushing from the emotion. “O...okay,” she finally admitted. “I guess I am really tired.”

Kennedy smiled, and Stephanie and Kaori looked relieved as well.

As she laid down in her own bed Jazmine felt a deep exhaustion pull at her body, but there was something nagging in the back of her mind. What was it —

"Kaori," she called out softly, just as her teacher was about to leave the dorm.

"What is it, Jazmine?" Kaori whispered, walking back towards Jazmine's bed.

"I saw something more in the Drift," Jazmine mumbled. "I almost forgot... it's... names. I saw their names."

Kaori was silent for a few minutes. "You saw the names of everyone in the Drift?" she asked, carefully, a hint of shock in her voice.

But Jazmine's breathing had deepened already, her body going stiller as she drifted off to sleep, and she didn't hear Kaori's question anymore. Next to her, So-Yi and Yuna were pretending to sleep, but stayed awake, trying to watch over their friend for as long as they could. Only after Kaori had left and the room went completely dark, sleep caught up with them as well.

 

**Scene 77—Chuck**

Chuck was terrified, fear racing through his body, and he couldn’t tell whether the pounding noise in his ears this whole time had been the weather or his own blood rushing through his veins in rapid pulses. He felt sick. He was pretty sure he was going to throw up any second. He closed his eyes and hoped the feeling would go away, tried to pretend he was in a theme park ride and none of it was real, _anything_ to not be where he actually was. 

Despite being covered head to toe in tactical armor, helmet and mask and all, Chuck felt cold to the bone. He was shivering and tried hard to keep his teeth from chattering. He looked around, but couldn’t exactly read the expressions of the other PPDC soldiers; they were wearing the same gear, most of their face obscured by their helmet, some already wearing the masks that covered the lower half of their faces as well. 

The rain was hammering down on the hull of the helicopter and Chuck wondered how the machine was even able to fly through this kind of weather. Another rumble outside was quickly followed by a flash of lightning. The storm was right above them and Chuck felt the thunder in reverberate in his gut. 

Chuck didn’t recall much of his childhood in Australia, even though they only moved to LA when he was 10 years old. Not a lot had stuck except the accent, but he now remembered crawling under the table as a boy as a storm raged outside. His mother had tried to get him out from under there, but he’d just crawled away further, and she’d eventually settled for crawling under the table herself, wrapping them both in a blanket. His father had been grumbling at them both, saying that there was nothing dangerous about this storm, and attempted to demonstrate it by going outside. At that point, Chuck had ran out from under the table and clung to his dad’s leg angrily, demanding he stayed inside with them. 

Chuck wasn’t sure whether the memory made him sad or angry. Perhaps both. It was silly and stupid and childish and it hurt. It seemed like a different lifetime. It seemed like that boy should have grown up differently, like he shouldn’t have had to lose his mother, lose his father, lose whatever identity he’d had to the manipulations and violations of those older and more powerful than him. It hurt like hell, and he didn’t want to feel that way. He wanted the hopelessness and the powerlessness and the helplessness to go away. 

His jaw clenched and his hands tightened further around the rifle and it was a good thing it had its safety on, or Chuck might’ve inadvertently pressed down the trigger. 

Aleksis Kaidonovsky marched through the helicopter like a human version of a rhinoceros or something equally huge and imposing; the sway and shudder of the vehicle didn’t seem to bother him at all, like he created his own center of gravity through sheer mass and presence. “All right, PPDC ladies, gentlemen! Drop is in one minute. Undo seat belts, hang on to rail. This is it!” Sasha marched up behind him, hanging on to one of the loops that hung from the ceiling rail, but exuding every bit the commanding presence that Aleksis did—perhaps even more so. 

“This is not a drill, baby soldiers,” she shouted. “You have trained, you are ready! Stay in cover and follow orders. Let’s take down these Kaiju _svoloch_!”

The unit broke out in a rowdy cheer and Chuck quickly added his own voice to it, feeling a little emboldened by the noise. He didn’t understand the Russian, but knowing Sasha, it undoubtedly was a pretty good swear word. 

A loud beep was suddenly ringing in his ears and Chuck winced. “Comm unit activated,” a voice came, apparently from inside his helmet. 

“Connection established,” the comm device continued. “Identifying… Ranger C. Hansen.” 

Chuck swallowed hard and a red flush rose up his necks to his cheeks. Shit. _Shit_. Nobody knew he was here. Ranger Gage thought he was a regular private. But this fucking high-tech piece of gear knew. Maybe his dog tags or something? He should’ve thrown them out. Shit shit shit— 

Back in LOCCENT, a call came in, ending Stacker Pentecost’s fifteen minutes of angered worry. 

“Ranger C. Hansen located,” the tracker console chimed up in a tinny feminine voice. “Where,” the Marshal’s voice boomed, just as Mako whispered a ‘thank god’. “Cherno Alpha unit, heli CH-35K-8, coordinates —” 

Pentecost’s fist landed none too gently on the console table. “ _God-dammit!_ ” Mako’s eyes flew to the mission overview just as the Marshal’s did, and their eyes met; Mako’s gaze worried, Pentecost’s furious. “Get me Sasha,” he barked at the communications officer. “ _Now._ ” 

Back in the helicopter, the side door swept open, rain and wind blasting inside just as Pentecost’s voice boomed through Sasha’s headset. She turned her head around and scanned through the row of still-seated PPDC soldiers, her gaze landing on Chuck. Chuck saw Sasha look straight at him. He instinctively ducked his head. She strode up to him in two steps, grabbed another loop from the ceiling rail, grabbed him by the scruff with her other hand and yanked him right out of his seat, his mask sliding down his face. Sasha's pupils dilated further now that she was able to fully recognize him.

“Bad. Dog,” she hissed. “Very. bad.” 

She threw him forward to Aleksis. Some of the soldiers in the unit were distracted by what was going on, but most were focused on the mission, forming a line towards the helicopter door, jumping out one after the other. 

Aleksis grabbed him by the straps on his back that held a part of his tactical armor in place. Chuck didn’t dare say a word. “You stick with my squad, baby Ranger,” Aleksis barked. “Then when I bring you back to Marshal alive, you will wish Kaiju killed you.” 

He shoved Chuck forward and he was right at the edge of the helicopter, waving his arms for balance and narrowly managing to cling to the doorframe. “Jump,” Aleksis ordered. “Is only fifteen feet.” “A-are you kidding me?” Chuck squeaked. He was pretty sure he couldn’t survive a fifteen feet fall without breaking something. 

“The armor absorbs some of shock,” Sasha said behind him. Her hand was on his neck again. “You wanted to play soldier, bad dog,” she hissed. “So. Follow orders, soldier. Make. the. drop.” Below, Chuck saw the unit spreading out, securing the drop zone, blue lights and lines flickering on the display, giving him tactical information he wasn’t sure how to interpret with his complete lack of training. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Yes, ma’am.” His feet propelled him forward, out into the air, and before he could think about what a fucking terrible idea this whole thing was, his feet hit the ground, and then so did his knees, and then the rest of him, slamming and skidding over the wet concrete. Soon enough, he noticed he wasn’t in pain, and his armor squeezed and tightened around him before relaxing again. Huh. 

There was someone sticking out a hand and he grabbed it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. Ranger T. Gage, his HUD told him, and whilst that sparked a question, Chuck didn’t have time to think about it. There was a beep in his ear and then, the Marshal’s voice coming through. “ _Ranger Hansen_ ,” Pentecost began. 

He sounded fucking _livid_. Chuck once again felt the urge to cower behind and under something and now Pentecost wasn’t even physically _here_. But his voice more than filled out what other physical presence he lacked. 

“I thought you more obedient than this. I was _wrong_. You are putting this entire operation at risk. Do you think this is a _game!_?” 

“N-no sir,” Chuck stammered, because it seemed like the right sort of response to being yelled at by his commander. 

“From now, you will follow your exact orders. You will stay close your mission escort and you will stay out of sight. There is no margin of error and there is no opportunity for you to return to the Shatterdome until the mission is completed. If you do not follow orders, you will die. If you run, you will be recaptured by the Kaiju. Do _not_ disappoint me any further! IS. THAT. CLEAR.” “Yes sir,” Chuck said, his heart hammering in his chest, color drained from his face. “Good.” 

Another beep indicated the conversation was over.

Chuck looked up at Aleksis, feeling lost and looking for the direction he was supposed to get. Pentecost said he should stick to his mission escort. Was that Aleksis? He was so confused. And Chuck wasn’t bad at following orders, usually. He still wasn’t sure what the hell had possessed him to come this way at all. 

The unit was in cover between large stacks of shipping containers, and the helicopter had took off again, hovering higher but at a visible and audible distance. Just then, Ranger Bruce Gage ran up to him from the front, and caught Aleksis’ attention as well. 

“Ranger, stay in position,” Aleksis boomed. 

“Apologies, sir,” Bruce started, giving Aleksis a quick salute. “But I offer to be Ranger C. Hansen’s mission escort.” Aleksis folded his massive arms across his chest. His thick dark eyebrows lowered further, his darkened gaze making Chuck want to cower and hide. “ _Explain_.” 

“Ranger Hansen is my responsibility. I mistook him for a private and took him with me.” Bruce replied. 

Aleksis made a noise that to Chuck sounded _way_ too much like a growl. 

Chuck narrowed his eyes. So now he was some kind of special person instead of a regular soldier? He didn't like it. But then— he was in way over his head. What the fuck had he been thinking anyway? He hadn't really been thinking at all. This whole thing was a giant mistake and it was probably a good idea to lay low and have protection. 

“Good,” Aleksis finally said, his face relaxing somewhat. “Take him off my back. Keep safe.” He looked around. “Ranger Trevin! Help your _braht_.” 

Chuck blinked. Another Russian word. Then Ranger T. Gage walked back towards them from the front line of the unit as well, saluted Aleksis, and nodded towards Chuck. Chuck also didn’t miss Bruce clasping a hand down on the man’s shoulders. Chuck wondered if they were related. They had to be, right? From what he could see, they looked incredibly alike. Brothers. Maybe even twins. 

Aleksis tapped the comm piece on his ear. “Mark Rangers Gage as mission escort for VIP,” Aleksis said. 

The Ranger Gage who wasn’t Bruce stuck out his hand. “Trevin Gage, at your service,” he said. “Twin brother to this idiot,” he added with a nod of his head and a jab of his thumb towards Bruce. 

“Heh. Had that coming,” Bruce said with a light chuckle and a shrug. Bruce reached out and patted his shoulder. “Stick with me and Trev and you’ll be fine. I’m sorry for getting you into this mess, kid.” 

“Don’t get killed and you might learn something,” Trevin added with a grin. Chuck could tell he was playing it cool, though—Trevin's eyes showed a more worried expression. They were probably trying to make Chuck feel more at ease.

As if he could actually feel at ease in a fucking _combat situation_. “Seriously, kid—if you knew you were a rookie—why’d you let me bring you along?” Bruce asked, frowning. 

Chuck paused, remembering the situation in the armory. “But you knew,” he muttered. “You figured me out, right?” 

Bruce cocked his head. “I wasn’t sure. Figured nobody would be stupid enough to actually sneak onto this mission. And we were running out of time.” 

“Oh,” Chuck mumbled. He scratched his head, shrugging, unconsciously making himself appear smaller. “I guess—I just wanted to do _something_. The Marshal would just have me sit this out in LOCCENT.” He balled his fists, remembering the mission briefing. “He wasn’t even listening to me when I tried to help.” 

“Tryin’ to make a difference, huh,” Bruce said. He gave Chuck a sympathetic look. 

“Yeah, I get that,” Trevin chimed in with a nod. “Most of us here, we—” 

“You don’t get it!” Chuck exclaimed. For some reason he was starting to feel really annoyed. Sure, he wasn't a soldier, he didn't know what the hell to do with a gun, but... it's not like he was just some damn highschooler. Chuck pointed towards the front, towards the Bone Slum. “I _know_ that place! I’ve _been_ there!" Chuck yelled. "Pentecost wasn’t listening to damn thing I said and the people I love are in there _and I have to get them out!”_

There were a few beats of silence between the three of them, Bruce and Trevin looking at each other, then back at Chuck.

“You’re _that_ Hansen?” they said in unison. 

“Who did you think I was!?” Chuck snapped. He was oddly used to people around him treating him like someone special—even the Kaiju, treating him like an animal, like trash, but somehow still _special_ trash, with their fucking tattoo and weird shit. Hannibal had told him he was being _prepared_ for something. Pentecost had told him the same thing. In one way or another, Chuck had gotten the idea into his head that everyone knew who he was, if only because that fact usually led to his torture. 

Trevin shrugged. “Plenty of Hansens in the PPDC, man.”

“Yeah, I know a guy from the 3rd unit. John? Jake?” Bruce supplied. Chuck slumped forward a little. This was bad, right? If they didn’t know who he was then maybe they weren’t supposed to know, and something bad would happen, something even worse than this total mess and it was already pretty bad. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Hey, kid,” Bruce said, patting Chuck on the back. “All it means is you have even more reason to be here than anyone else in the unit.” 

“‘Course, our superiors might disagree about putting their rookie super VIP in a combat situation,” Trevin said. “So we’re gonna bust our ass to protect you.” 

“All you gotta do is stay close and keep your wits about you. Can you do that, kid?” Bruce said, giving Chuck’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“Y-yeah. Yes. Sir,” Chuck managed.

 

 **Scene 78— Yancy**

About two clicks away from Chuck’s position, Yancy’s feet landed on the wet concrete with a splash, Yancy wincing from the impact—even if it actually hurt less than he figured. He’d caught a glimpse of some of the adaptive fiber enhancements when putting on the field gear, so it wasn’t surprising, although he preferred designing that stuff to actually field testing it. Yancy followed Cheung Wei, grateful for the partial HUD on his helmet that unlike himself could actually tell the triplets apart. And unlike Chuck, Yancy was well aware of his VIP status in the mission. He could handle himself a little better than Chuck could in a fight, and he was great at pretending he knew what the fuck he was doing. But when he got down to it, he had just as much military training as Chuck, which is to say, absolutely none. 

He’d just ducked into cover after a signal from Cheung when new mission information came through. Yancy spun around, looking towards Chuck’s position, where a marker told him _Ranger C. Hansen_ was added as a VIP.

“Jesus Christ,” Yancy mumbled. Himself being on this mission was already a risk he was aware of—and a risk Pentecost had calculated, knowing it was the only way he could get Yancy into a PPDC rank and file. 

But _Chuck_? What the fuck was Chuck doing here? 

Adrenaline shot through him, fierce and bright, and Yancy’s hands twitched. His pure gut instinct was to bolt and run towards Chuck immediately, as fast as he could, no matter who the hell was between him and the boy. The pang and the intensity of it slammed into him so hard he staggered forward. He knew there was still something of a bond between them, something that would never go away—but to physically feel the _need_ to ensure Chuck’s safety, to tear apart anything and anyone around him who was a threat—that was very new.

Without even another single thought he started to walk towards Chuck, his body purely reacting to his emotions.

“I know what you’re thinking and the answer is no,” Cheung said, stepping in to block Yancy’s view. “Stay with the unit.” 

“Like you can fucking make me,” Yancy hissed, then was himself surprised at the venom in his tone, the anger that bubbled up. 

“I _can_ and I _will_ ,” Cheung bit. “You are not going to be a risk to this operation. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re risking our lives to save _your_ brother’s ass. Stand _down_ , Ranger!” 

Yancy nearly snarled, but managed to control himself, willing the rage back down. Cheung was right. He didn’t want to fuck this up, even though his body was screaming at him.   

With much effort, Yancy took a step back. “Fine," he gritted out. 

“Good,” Cheung said. He looked very pissed off, his face twisted into pure scowling. “For this mission to succeed, we need to be able to count on you to follow orders. Can we?” 

Yancy took a deep breath, further willing himself to calm. “Yeah. Yes,” he said. 

And he meant it, even though he now felt Chuck’s presence on the field tug on him, like a live wire running between him and the boy. Was it really that new? There was a familiar ache to it. Familiar, like—like when they had been separated after Chuck became an official pet, when Yancy had just about seen red, punched down a couple of PPDC guards, yelled and then pleaded with Pentecost to let him buy Chuck out of his contract.

Yeah, it felt like that—and Yancy wasn’t sure he liked it. It was out of control. It was old. He’d been trying very hard not to be that person anymore. He thought of Mako, of her lips on his, her warm, welcoming thighs clasping around his waist, her wetness and softness and willingness. The way things between them felt _easy_ , and perhaps even _good_ , the way things had never felt between him and Chuck. 

Yancy squeezed his eyes shut and pushed Chuck as far out of his consciousness as he could.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The PPDC forces infiltrate Hannibal Chau's headquarters, and Chuck tries to keep it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Woo! Readers, you won't believe the shit that keeps happening in my life. But I'm trying to get these out either way.
> 
> This would be a good time to check the archive warnings for this fic again. Y'know. Just in case.

**Scene 77—Chuck**

His heads-up-display told him barely an hour had passed, but for all Chuck knew it could have been five minutes. Everything went by in a blur of noise and light and pressure, like a rollercoaster ride where he did all he could to just hang on. The Gage brothers dragged him through, Bruce in front of him, Trevin behind him, pushing and pulling, signaling and yelling. After his initial hesitation and confusion a part of his mind just shut down; he stopped being aware as much and simply followed them, listened to their orders, did what he was told. That was a familiar reflex, no different than following Yancy as a dog. Simplifying his world to yes and no, good and bad, do as told, do not object. He couldn’t tell apart one stack of shipping containers from the next either way, the pouring rain obscuring whatever details there were.

Then, in one stark moment, time grinded to a halt for Chuck. His body locked up, froze as if cast in stone, and his mind scrabbled to make sense of the input his body had already reacted to. His ears were ringing. There was blood splatter on his visor. Trevin’s arm slid off his shoulder, Chuck’s eye caught the glint of something in Trevin’s hand.

_A gun. It was a gunshot._

He felt sick, like he was about to throw up and soil himself all at once. The ringing got louder, and he couldn’t feel his limbs—

_The sensation of something sliding out of his mouth. Blood, so much of it. A strange gurgling sound. The second shot, brains everywhere. Then something cold, hard, metal, pressed against the back of his head. A voice he recognizes saying things he doesn’t want to hear._

_Can’t move. Rope around his wrists and ankles. Begging is no use. The pain starts and doesn’t end for a long time._

_A hand pressed over his mouth, something shoved in his nose. He has to breathe. His head starts to get fuzzy, his body feels different._

There was something cold on his face. Cold, wet, small drops—rain. There couldn’t be any rain inside a hotel room. Could there be? No.

The face in front of him wasn’t Scott, and the voice was different, and was calling him by a different name.

“Chuck…! Chuck!!”

He blinked, trying to focus. Not inside the room. Not with Scott. Then where was he now? Who was talking to him?

The answers came to him, his mind pulling itself back to the present. His eyes focused.

“I think he’s coming back,” Bruce said.

Chuck winced. His head really, really hurt, and his body felt like it was weighed down by a ton of sand.

“Uggghhhh,” he groaned.

Trevin appeared in his field of vision. “You okay, buddy?” he said. “Enemy flanked us, the guy had a clear shot at you, I had no time to warn you.”

“‘m fine,” Chuck replied, even though he wasn’t. It was too complicated to explain, anyway. “But can I keep the helmet off?”

He felt like if he put it on again he'd go back under. Back to _there_. He liked the sensation of the weather on his face. The rain kept him grounded. Whilst he was out here, he couldn’t be anywhere else. No hotel room, no dungeon.

Bruce helped Chuck attach a radio piece to his ear, double-checking it. “We need to move out. Stay close to us,” he said.

Chuck nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“You’re doing good so far, kid,” Trevin pitched in. “Checkpoint is less than a click away.”

Chuck squeezed his eyes shut for a second. His head still hurt, but the rest of him felt more alert and less heavy. He could hold on for a bit longer. He ducked his head behind Bruce, hoping nobody would flank them again; he had enough of guns going off next to his face for a lifetime. He focused on Bruce’s feet, moving forward over the asphalt, lights flickering on the puddles of water. All he had to do was follow; anyone could follow.

 

* * *

 

When Bruce halted, Chuck nearly walked right into him. Bruce turned around and gave him a small nod.

“Final checkpoint reached,” Bruce said over the comms. “Awaiting main unit.”

Chuck felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around. Trevin smiled. “We made it, kiddo,” he said. “We got through.”

“It should be a matter of time before the other units clear out the rest of the path. We wait here,” Bruce said.

Chuck noticed the fog finally clearing from his head a little, now that he was allowed to pause and catch his breath again. He swallowed, pushing down the memories that were clawing at the back of his consciousness. _Not now. Not ever._

He looked around. They were in cover, obscured by the weather, the shadows and the higher objects around them. It was hard to see much more than a few feet ahead, and that was probably a good thing.

“How are you feeling?” Trevin asked him. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I’m fine,” Chuck started. “I don’t thin….k…”

A flash of lightning illuminated the building, inconspicuous with its perimeter lights off, hiding amongst the shadows and the storm. But it was there. It didn’t even look impressive from the outside, no flashy architecture. It was a huge bunker made of concrete and steel, with stainless steel stairs leading up to the first floor, big armor-plated doors with a smaller door carved inside it. No windows. And if you squinted, you could make out the letters above the door, written in Chinese and in English.

“The Bone Slum,” Bruce mumbled.

Chuck’s body was bracing itself again, locked in place, his eyes not able to look away as another lightning strike illuminated the bunker; the Bone Slum, Hannibal Chau’s headquarters.

_Not again, not again—_

“I’m gonna barf,” Chuck managed to squeak out before doing exactly that, retching all over his own and Trevin’s boots.

A big strong hand was on his back, one of the Gages no doubt. “There ya go, kid,” Bruce said in a comforting tone.

“You did good,” Trevin pitched in.

Chuck gritted his teeth, feeling the next wave bubble up—and sure enough he threw up again, the sensation raw and disgusting with his entire body heaving and tears jumping into his eyes and snot coming out of his nose. Bruce’s hand stayed on his back the whole time.

Finally, it felt like his stomach contents were pretty much empty—not that he’d thrown up more than his breakfast and bile—and Bruce patted his back.

“Look up,” he said.

“Huh?” Chuck mumbled, lifting his head up.

The cool rain doused his face, washing away the mucus and tears and spit. He coughed a few times, closed his eyes, and let the storm do its thing.

When Chuck opened his eyes again, he felt remarkably refreshed, a weird clarity in his mind and body. Even so, he felt the presence of the Bone Slum looming at the edge of his vision and he hesitated to look towards it.

“Baby Ranger!” a voice boomed, from behind them, and Chuck turned to see Aleksis Kaidonovsky, followed by the rest of their unit, with Sasha at the rear.

Chuck mostly tried to stay upright as the hulking Russian strode towards him and clamped two huge hands down on Chuck’s shoulders. Chuck felt like he was being pushed down an inch into the asphalt from the sheer force of Aleksis' arms. “You make it! Good!”

He gave a nod to the Gage brothers, who saluted Aleksis. “Sir,” they said in unison.

“Sitrep,” Aleksis barked.

They glanced at each other, and Bruce nodded at Trevin, who began to speak.

“Nominal, no hits taken, escort successful,” he rattled off. “Den entry looks clear.”

Sasha made her way to the front. “Typhoon unit one click away.”

Aleksis nodded. “Good. Then we clear path inside. Alpha-one hold perimeter.”

“Affirmative,” Sasha said, signaling to the unit behind her. A group of soldiers split off from the rest, as the others walked forward, splitting the group in one-third with her and two-thirds with Aleksis.

Chuck wasn’t sure what his orders were. Was he supposed to stay outside? He wasn’t sure he wanted to go inside, even if that’s where Raleigh and his old man were.

“Gages. You in alpha-two with me. Escort baby Ranger,” Aleksis barked, and that was that.

“Move out!” Aleksis shouted, and the unit surged forward up the stairs.

The Gages held him close at the rear of the unit, trusting Aleksis and their fellow soldiers in the vanguard to handle the danger at the front. Still, there was nothing that could have prepared Chuck for when the unit poured inside the building, swallowed by darkness, and a smell that was far too familiar. If he hadn’t thrown up already, he would have right then.

The club, when he’d seen it, had been filled with people; illuminated with purple, red and blue lights; the constant thumping of the dance floor music; the clinking of glasses; the murmuring, laughter and cries of the club’s guests adding to the background noise.

It was dark inside now but for the lights coming off the rifles of soldiers at the front. For a few eerie minutes, everything was quiet. And then, it wasn’t.

Hannibal’s men surged up from the dark, gunfire illuminated the hallway and Chuck saw it as he remembered it; the long entrance hallway, the staircases at the end of it, one leading up the second floor where the VIP areas were, the other to the ground dance floor, and the hallways on the sides that led to the balconies overseeing the dance floor.

It was all a front, a façade. Chuck knew all too well what lay beneath the bunker; the dungeon with its maze-like hallways and rooms, one even viler than the next; the blocks where pets—prisoners, victims, he corrected himself mentally, as Stephanie had taught him—like him had been kept in their cells. Chained, sleeping on a metal slab, a hole in the ground as a toilet, and some disgusting slimy noodles and dirty water to sustain them.

How had he ever made it out alive?

That’s right—for Aleksis and Sasha, this wasn’t their first tour of the place. They’d been here before to rescue him. But that had been a whole different scenario. It certainly hadn’t involved dozens and dozens of soldiers. From what Chuck had been able to piece together, they had infiltrated the club, posing as clients until they were able to bust Chuck out. He wasn’t even sure _how_ they had made it out, but the entire club being full of important clients and high-ranking Triad members probably had had something to do with it. Hannibal wouldn't risk a full shoot-out that way.

And it had been a trick that only worked once—now Hannibal Chau knew who they were. You couldn’t really miss a couple like Aleksis and Sasha based on their description. And this time, Hannibal was prepared. The club was closed. Chuck wondered what they would find inside. He didn't want to think about it too much—he just wanted to find Raleigh, and hell, even his old man, and get the hell out. He'd do whatever he was told for that purpose. So he kept his head down and tried to stay out of sight. And yet—his anxiety made him want to see everything that was happening. When he dared to look up and just beyond from where the Gages were shielding him, he spotted Aleksis.

He was kind of hard to miss.

The hulking mass of a man was charging through the room like an armed rhinoceros, blasting one guard’s face off with a shotgun whilst cracking another guard’s neck with his other arm, then spinning around and taking down another guard with the butt of his gun.

Chuck was slightly terrified but also amazed. The giant Russian was a force of nature. The other soldiers in the unit just had to cover his path and clean up whatever he'd left in his wake.

As they made it to the staircases Chuck could see how it formed a challenge—here, the guards came at them from multiple directions rather than just the long entrance hallway. There were the stairs down to the dance floor level, stairs on the left and the right leading up to the VIP area, and to the left and right of those two hallways leading further to the back of the ground level. Hannibal's men were pouring out from all directions straight into PPDC gunfire. It was bad for them, but their numbers just kept coming. Chuck found himself huddling behind the Gages again. If things went bad, he didn't really want to see it.

The elevator to get to the dungeon level was on the second floor, at the back of the VIP lounges. Chuck knew that all too well. It’s where he had spent most of his time when he hadn’t been down in the dungeon. Up there, being dragged around by a handler, forced to service Hannibal’s patrons. Sometimes it was just dancing or letting them grope him; sometimes he had to suck them off or fuck them. Those were actually the least terrible nights, right up until the guards had taken an interest in him.

“Hey. Chuck, hey. You okay?” Trevin’s voice seemed to come from a hundred miles away.

Chuck shook his head. “Um, yeah,” he mumbled.

“It’s a lot to deal with,” Trevin said, making an attempt at being supportive. Chuck wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything.

“Hold position,” Aleksis boomed over the comms. “Wait for backup.”

The rattle of gunfire continued at the front of the hall. The Gages pulled back, taking up cover behind the reception desk, pulling Chuck decidedly out of the line of fire.

Chuck let out a long sigh, and sank down onto the floor, as if his entire body was seeking stability. He hadn’t realized how much his surroundings had been kind of spinning around him the whole time until the feeling went away. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath.

 

**Scene 78—Yancy**

Watching the dot that was Chuck go inside the Bone Slum and being unable to stop him physically pained Yancy. They were like ten minutes away from the final checkpoint. Why were they letting Chuck go inside at the front of the raid? Why not have him stay outside with Sasha, where there was significantly less gunfire?

As soon as they arrived, Yancy confronted Cheung. “We need to get inside,” he snapped.

“We’re not going anywhere ‘till Alpha gives the go-ahead,” Cheung said evenly.

Yancy opened his mouth to counter this when Aleksis’ voice patched through over the comms. “Facing trouble at main staircase. Requesting backup from Typhoon.”

“That’s us,” Jin said, and Cheung nodded at him.

“Do I need to tell you to not run out in front of the unit and get shot like an idiot, or are you gonna figure that one out by yourself?” Cheung remarked at Yancy.

“I got it, thanks,” Yancy said. He didn’t care. He needed to get to Chuck, if only so his chest would stop feeling like someone was trying to yank an arrow out of it.

“Typhoon moving to your position,” Hu patched through.

They moved fast, the path in front of them cleared. All Yancy had to worry about was not tripping over bodies, along with not looking too closely at bodies and throwing up over bodies. He'd never seen this many dead people in one place. He didn't really want to linger at the sight of it, much less the way he felt about it.

As they were getting closer to the main staircase Yancy spotted the reception desks, two big PPDC soldiers, and Chuck’s silhouette slumped down on the floor. Yancy bolted towards him, orders be damned, his body reacting on pure adrenaline or whatever the hell it was that bound the two of them together.

Yancy sat down on one knee in front of Chuck, took off his right hand glove and felt the boy's pulse. He was alive, but not alert. Yancy's own pulse was drumming in his ears.

“ _Chuck_ ,” Yancy hissed. He needed a response. He needed it _now._

“Chuck!” Yancy repeated, and Chuck's head moved a little, his eyes opening slightly, still very unfocused.

Yancy frowned. He knew how to call Chuck to attention—and for a moment he considered if he should, but then another blast of gunfire erupted several hundred yards away, and his instinct took over.

“ _Pet_ ,” Yancy said then, louder and firm. Saying it just like he had before, all those years. There was no doubt it would work.

He knew Chuck had heard him by the way the boy’s spine straightened, sitting up attentively. Chuck's eyes opened fully, his eyes focusing on Yancy, his body turning entirely towards Yancy. Moving by instinct just as much.

Yancy didn’t fail to notice the two Rangers flanking Chuck, hovering near him. But right now, he didn’t give a shit what they thought or what they wanted.

Yancy cupped Chuck’s jaw with his bare hand, thumb sweeping over Chuck’s cheek. With his other hand, he took off his own helmet. The hallway was dimly illuminated now by flares cast to the sides, and he could make out Chuck’s face. His eyes were reddened and his skin looked paler than ever.

“Are you hurt, pet?” Yancy asked.

In the back of his mind, a voice was still trying to tell him that this wasn’t right, he had released Chuck, he had no right to act this way, and this was all wrong.

But they were in a goddamn _combat situation_ , the rest of him was shouting. He _had_ to protect Chuck; he just _had to_.

Chuck shook his head slowly, then swallowed hard. “N-no,” he said, his voice rough and rasping. He sounded terrible. Yancy’s thumb swept over Chuck’s reddened chin. The boy must’ve thrown up.

“I’m glad,” Yancy said.

There was the sharp intake of his breath, and he saw Chuck’s pupils dilate, before Yancy’s hand landed on Chuck’s cheek with a loud slap.

“The fuck—!” Bruce exclaimed, dashing towards Yancy, grabbing Yancy’s wrist and yanking it back and away from Chuck just as Trevin pulled Chuck away from Yancy.

“What the fuck,” Trevin said. “Chuck, are you okay? Jesus.”

But Chuck’s eyes were fixed on Yancy, his face turned upwards, his spine still straight. He’d taken the hit fully, not collapsing.

Yancy growled at Bruce, pulling at his wrist, but Bruce didn’t let him go. “Let. me. go,” Yancy hissed. “This is between me and him.”

“Like fuck it is—” Bruce started, and then Chuck interrupted him.

“He’s right,” Chuck said in a low voice. “Thanks, but—can you guys just leave us.”

Bruce and Trevin exchanged looks.

“Don’t you know who you are working for?” Yancy snapped. “You’ve never seen a pet disciplined before?”

“Uh,” Trevin started, glancing at Bruce.

“Let’s back off for a bit,” Bruce said, letting go of Yancy and stepping back, taking up position at the left and right edges of the desk. Trevin followed suit.

“There,” Yancy said. He ran his hand through Chuck’s hair. “Just you and me now, pet. It’s just you and me.”

Chuck closed his eyes and just as Yancy saw a calmness come over the boy, he slapped him again, with his other hand, the other cheek, this time.

Chuck gasped, swaying a little, then he sat up straight again and faced Yancy. By now, Chuck had neatly folded his hands behind his back, kneeling with his knees apart. The first submitting pose Yancy had taught him.

“Do you know what you’ve done wrong, pet?” Yancy said softly.

Chuck nodded. “Yes. I disobeyed orders.”

_That’s right,_ Yancy thought. _You could’ve gotten hurt, or worse. They could’ve killed you. You had no fucking idea what you were getting into, I could’ve lost you too—_

Yancy yanked Chuck’s hair back, exposing his neck. “And now you’re here,” Yancy hissed. “And here is dangerous. You shouldn’t be here, pet.”

“I know,” Chuck gasped. “I’m sorry.”

Then something changed in Chuck’s expression. There was a flicker of defiance and anger in his gaze before he could mask it; Yancy knew Chuck too well, too intimately to not catch it.

Yancy gritted his teeth and tightened his grip. He was getting angrier, irritated. “Spit it out,” Yancy hissed.

Chuck narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, but his body was still in submission, bending to Yancy’s hand. His lip trembled, but his eyes were telling a different story.

Yancy brought his other hand up to Chuck’s jaw and pinched it hard between his thumb and fingers. “You know better than to fool me, pet,” Yancy said pointedly. “And you should know better than to give me that look.”

It seemed Chuck had regained some of his self-awareness, now that Yancy had pulled him out of a state of panic. Chuck licked his lips and Yancy let go of his jaw. “Well?”

“I… I’ve been here before,” Chuck said, his voice trembling, but his eyes fierce. “I know how dangerous it is.” He cast down his gaze, avoiding Yancy’s.

Yancy was caught off-guard by that. This whole time he’d been so preoccupied with the fighting, the mission, the whole combat thing and how _that_ was dangerous, he hadn’t even thought about how Chuck might feel about his surroundings, about being back in this place. Back in the Bone Slum.

Yancy’s grasp on Chuck softened. “That’s right,” Yancy said, the anger fading from his voice. “Y-you were.”

The thrumming in his own veins became louder again, his ears ringing softly. He felt control slipping away and then he reached out to Chuck, pulling him in hard, wrapping his arms around the boy.

He wasn't sure whether he'd been disciplining Chuck for Chuck himself, or for his own satisfaction; his own sense of familiarity and safety. He'd made it all about his own shit again. He hadn't even thought about how Chuck would feel about being back. Christ, he was a selfish asshole.

“I’m so glad you’re not hurt,” Yancy whispered. Even through their armor he thought he could feel Chuck's warmth, and it settled him, a little bit.

Chuck’s arms wrapped tight around Yancy. “I… I’m glad you’re here,” Chuck said eventually.

“But _you_ shouldn’t be here,” Yancy replied, making his point again. What the fuck was Chuck thinking? How did he even get here? It wasn't like him to disobey orders. Yancy wondered what it was that had set him off—

And then he recalled the venom with which Chuck had approached him and Mako.

Oh.

Yancy closed his eyes for a second.

It was all fucked up, muddled up. He knew. If there was one thing he knew, it was that he didn't know what the fuck he was doing. Did he really have the right to chew out Chuck for it?

“Chuck—” Yancy began.

“I know,” Chuck sighed. “Raleigh and my dad… I couldn’t just… just let it all play out, you know?” His voice was soft and trembled. It was too much, Yancy thought. I shouldn't be this hard on him.

And hell, it's why he was in this mess himself.

“I’ll…” Yancy started, and then paused. What was he going to say? I’ll keep you safe? But he couldn’t promise that, not in this situation. “I won’t leave your side,” he eventually said.

Chuck nodded against Yancy’s chest. “Okay.”

One day, Yancy thought, they were going to have to figure out what the hell was going on between them. Pet and owner, boy and trainer, whatever it was. How they fitted together or didn’t, and where Mako’s place in it was, and Raleigh’s. One day.

For now, they just had to survive.

 

**Scene 79 - Chuck**

He hated it. How much he still wanted the pain, how easily he still submitted to Yancy. He hated it and loved it because right then it had been exactly what he needed. The sting of Yancy’s hand, the sharpness, the discipline, the humiliation in front of the Gages. It made the room stop spinning, it drew the world into focus. He could see the same happening with Yancy. It was so easy, almost effortless, for them to go back to this old pattern and find comfort in each other.

It gave him comfort, but it also pissed him off. He wanted to be better than this. Yancy had released him and then kept coming back to him like this. It was annoying and it felt good and it annoyed Chuck that it still felt good. It annoyed him that he was thinking about this shit in the middle of this place full of bodies and gunfire. He gritted his teeth and disentangled himself from Yancy with a frown, avoiding Yancy’s gaze, searching for the Gages instead.

Yancy had also changed, and the pieces of themselves didn’t fit well together anymore. And every edge of him that chafed against one of Yancy’s, no longer slotting together, made defiance simmer under his skin.

_How dare he say I shouldn’t be here—how dare any of them. This is_ my _fight. None of you know what it’s like. All that armor and guns and none of you could survive what I have._

He knew they were his thoughts but they were still nearly alien, and he was afraid to even think them, let alone give in. He had been punished for every show of defiance, every sign of disobedience, and his gut reaction was to push down these thoughts and feelings, and yet— they’d rise up and fly out of his mouth given the smallest bit of room to exist.

He was still flushed from speaking up like that. To Yancy, of all people. He was so sure at that moment Yancy would slap him again—and instead, Yancy had immediately softened, his voice cracking, pulling Chuck into a hug.

He wasn’t sure what to think or feel.

His eyes met Bruce’s and the older Ranger crouched towards him.

“Everything okay, kiddo?” Bruce said, glancing at Yancy with some measure of distrust.

“Yes, sir,” Chuck said.

Trevin came up to them as well, and Yancy sat back a little. Chuck observed the twins. They really did look very much alike, he mused. He hadn’t really given it much thought—but visually it would be hard to tell them apart. Yet, Chuck hadn't had any trouble so far. There was something about the twins that made it easy to distinguish them, though Chuck couldn’t say what it was. He could just tell.

“I don’t think Bruce here outranks you, Hansen,” Trevin said with a grin, nodding towards his brother.

“Hey,” Bruce scoffed. “I like to think I have some seniority over the kid.”

Chuck forced a smile. They were obviously trying to lighten the mood, even though it didn’t really help, he appreciated the effort.

Yancy stayed oddly quiet, almost subdued, trying to stay out of their space. It made Chuck more than a little uncomfortable. He knew how to deal with a forceful Yancy. A silent, passive Yancy, not so much.

Up until now Chuck had given little thought to wherever the hell Yancy had appeared from, since he'd been so glad Yancy was there—but now he noticed the handful of soldiers at their sides, taking up cover. He saw one of the Wei triplets keenly observing their little situation—Hu, Chuck thought, even though he shouldn’t be able to tell them apart in this lighting and with their armor on. Then again, Chuck had known them for much longer, so maybe he'd gotten used to the small differences over time.

Then Cheung appeared, parting from the group of soldiers at the opposite side to speak to the Gages.

“Rangers,” Cheung began. “Most of Alpha and Typhoon are at the main staircase and report enemy forces are drying up on the ground level. We still expect resistance from the sub-ground level and first level. Crimson Typhoon will move and clear ground level whilst Cherno Alpha-two provides cover, holding the main hall.”

Cheung made eye-contact with Yancy. “Ranger Becket, you’ve been transferred to Alpha-two.” He nodded towards the Gages. “Rangers Gage, these two are your escort targets. Unit Alpha-one is coming up soon. Team up with them and wait out the firefight.”

“Affirmative,” Bruce and Trevin said, eerily simultaneous, saluting at Cheung, followed by the same odd synchronicity as they turned around. Everything happened fast, then—the whole time there had been the unnerving gunfire at the end of the hall whilst Chuck, Yancy and the Gages had hung back. Now the gunfire intensified as the rest of the Typhoon unit moved forward. Chuck couldn't see much of it. The Gages had gestured for Yancy and him to kneel down then both of them had positioned themselves in front of their escort targets. Now that front line was changing, they were at risk.

Just then a shiver went down his spine and he spun around to see Sasha march into the hallway, the rest of her unit behind her. She gave Chuck a cursory glance.

“You still alive. Not bad, dog,” she said to him. “Move out.”

The Gages took up position, just like they had outside, with Bruce in front of Chuck and Trevin behind Yancy, enclosing them in the middle. They joined up with the Alpha-one soldiers of Sasha's unit, sticking to the left side at the back of the squad, narrowing down the lines of fire to their charges as much as possible.

Together they began to move towards the front line, where Chuck could still spot Aleksis' silhouette despite being several hundred yards away. Sasha yelled towards him and Chuck couldn't understand the Russian exclamations that followed between the Kaidonovskies, but it certainly sounded affectionate, in a loud way. He vaguely wondered if giving away their position like this wasn't a problem, but then they were kind of hard to miss.

He tried to not be hyper-aware of Yancy walking there right next to him, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't stand how quiet his former owner still was and he wasn't sure how to act. Hell, Chuck still had no idea how to act around any of this. He was grateful for the Gages' orders and that was that. Pentecost had told him to follow orders and stay alive and those were two things Chuck was very good at, so maybe he _was_ cut out for this kind of thing. Although he'd seen an awful lot of dead bodies today—he tried not to think too much about it. He'd seen worse things with live bodies, he kept telling himself, but that didn't really settle his stomach much.

There was a loud bang, followed immediately by two more, and then smoke started to pour into the hallway. It didn't reach as far as back where they were and Chuck couldn't see much anyway.

The gunfire intensified again and from the radio chatter Chuck could tell that the Weis had cleared the lower level, smoking out the strays of Hannibal's forces out into the hallway right into the Kaidonovskies' line of fire.

Chuck coughed as the smell of the smoke hit his nose and throat, a mild sting making his eyes tear up.

“Keep breathing through your nose and upper chest,” Trevin said. “Don't worry, it'll clear up soon.”

The frontline was moving, Chuck could tell. Then he spotted Sasha coming back towards them, her platinum-blonde-bleached hair standing out amongst the crowd. She moved to take up position near Trevin, at the back of the unit.

“We take up rear guard,” she said with a grin.

There was something about her very different than what Chuck was used to. At the PPDC she had been all business, cold, all ice-queen-like. Now, Sasha seemed more alive somehow. Almost like she was _having fun_.

He didn't know a lot about her, aside from what he knew from PPDC's pet training. He knew her as being dominant and strict, not particularly sadistic, not very gentle, either. He knew that the PPDC trained Rangers as being pets or trainers first before they started combat training, but in the case of the Kaidonovskies, he wasn't so sure. Aside from both of them being Trainers, they were both oddly at ease around so many guns and explosions. It gave him some comfort that they at least knew what they were doing.

Their unit began to move forward again. They were close to the main staircase. Chuck felt bile rise up in his throat when the smoke began to clear more, revealing too many corpses for him to count. Most of them were Hannibal's men, but some of them were wearing PPDC blues. It was the first time he saw their own people dead, and it hadn't really hit him before that point. Not only Hannibal's men were the ones dying. His allies, too. Yancy was at risk, the triples, the Kaidonovskies, the Gages… and he could die, himself. His ears started to ring again, his chest tightened, his breathing sped up. His heartbeat was loud, as if it was hammering against his ribcage, screaming to get out.

After that, things got a little blurry.

At some point, Chuck had felt Yancy's hand squeezing his shoulder wordlessly. He knew they'd gone up the staircase. He knew were in the upper level, the VIP area. The fact that firefights had broken out around them had vaguely registered on his consciousness but the sounds came through muted. The room was swimming in his vision. The Gages had shoved them low to the ground and all Chuck could do was stare at the starry pattern that shone through the stained pyrex glass.

_It's too close. The floor is too close, I have to look away, I have to get up—_

_He was looking at his hands, placed on the starry glass floor, one in front of the other, crawling forward. His hands were clean now, nails polished, even painted with garish glitter. He didn't remember that being done. He must've fainted again when they were prepping him. He was cold, as always. A sharp tug on his leash told him to look up. A fat old businessman, white suit, black blouse, patting on his lap with a drooling grin. Chuck climbed on, wrapped his legs and arms around the man, batted his eyelids at him, smiled. He knew this. This was the easy part. He liked this part. He hardly had to pretend how glad he was to wrap himself around this soft warm person no matter how unwanted their touch was. For a while there was no hard floor, no chains or ropes, no cold. It was nice. He thought so even as he swallowed around the man's dick, hardly an effort for him, smiled as come slid down his throat and thick fingers gripped his hair tight. He'd come to recognise the Cantonese approximating 'good boy' along with 'yes' and 'fuck'. He also knew the words for 'no' and 'stop' but he didn't say them because the guards who were going to fuck him afterwards weren't going to listen anyway._

“Pet.”

“Pet!”

“Obey me!”

Yancy's words cut through the haze, sharp and acute and sparking to life the training that ran far deeper than Chuck's memories of the Bone Slum, and he sat up attentively, only to meet a very worried expression.

“Pet!” Yancy repeated.

Chuck nodded. “Owner,” he said back.

Yancy let out a sigh of relief. “Are you back with me, pet? Tell me where— no, er—” Yancy corrected himself. “Tell me who I am.”

Chuck narrowed his eyes. His surroundings were still blurry, but Yancy was there, solid and bright. It felt like he was swimming back up from a very deep pool.

“You are Yancy,” he mumbled. “Owner.”

Yancy would have protected him for sure. He wouldn't have let the guards touch him. Yancy hadn’t been there. Yancy would have kept him safe...so... then he wasn't...

Clarity started to come back, the noise and light around him filtering back in. He wasn't naked. He was wearing... some kind of complicated outfit, like a padded uniform.

“What are we doing here?” Yancy asked.

Chuck frowned. His head hurt—but he was getting back a sense of where he was and what was going on. Right, he was in the Bone Slum, but... it was with the PPDC. “Operation Lion's Den,” he answered.

“Yes. Good,” Yancy replied. “You're back, Chuck.” He looked almost apologetic.

Once again, Yancy had been the one to pull him back from the darkness and the confusion. Even as he felt thankful, Chuck was also embarrassed—and angry somehow. He didn't want to need Yancy so much. He didn't want Yancy to have that expression, like he felt sorry for Chuck and sorry for himself.

“I'm fine,” he said, biting back the thanks he wanted to give. Almost like he just didn't want to give Yancy the satisfaction of it.

The noise around them was getting less, the firefight petering out. The Gages hauled them to their feet.

“We're almost there,” Bruce said.

“Crimson Typhoon, this is Cherno Alpha,” Sasha said over the radio. “Level One secured, sending unit to retrieve you, remain in position.”

“Affirmative,” one of the Weis signaled back.

As Chuck got up and looked around he started to feel sick again. There were too many dead, still. He couldn't get used to it. His stomach was trying to turn itself inside-out again. The glass floor was no longer transparent, now dark and slippery with blood, messy with debris from the shootout, empty bullet casings, broken glass. The remainder of the PPDC soldiers had gathered near the exit and the Kaidonovskies taking up position near the elevators. After so much chaos, things were strangely quiet.

It didn't sit right with Chuck. Something was off, he felt it in his gut. There was something nagging at the back of his mind.

“Something isn't right,” he mumbled. There was a pang in his stomach and he winced, clutching it with one hand.

“Are you okay, Chuck?” Yancy said, looking at him with worry.

“It's too quiet,” Chuck replied. He felt incredibly uneasy, eyeing the shadows in the room, his gaze darting from one corner to the other. He licked his lips, nausea rising up enough for him to taste it. He wanted to throw up again.

“I know it seems that way,” Trevin said, turning towards them. “But it was crazy for awhile there. It's settled down now.”

Chuck fell down on his knees again, coughing. “It's wrong,” he mumbled, “It's all wrong—”

_Yanking the leash hard, pulling him back towards the elevators, but he knows they're not taking him down yet—there's the guard room at the back where they always—_

The back room. Chuck remembered. The map he’d seen in LOCCENT, how he’d known something was off about it. A sinking feeling ran through his body.

Chuck's eyes flew up towards the elevators. His gut instinct told him it was _bad, really bad_ —

“WATCH OUT!!!” he yelled, and Aleksis and Sasha turned around just as the explosion went off, bathing the room in white light and deafening noise.

 

* * *

 

When Chuck came to everything seemed sideways. He winced in pain and when he gasped for air he took in a gulp of dust and coughed, then winced again as his chest spasmed. His ears were numb, ringing, and there was something heavy on top of him and he squirmed trying to get away from it.

Only then he saw Yancy next to him, a trail of blood seeping down his temple, but his eyes were open and connecting with Chuck's, his lips moving but Chuck couldn't hear a thing.

There was movement above him and then the heaviness was lifted off him. Two of the Weis was looking at him, saying something to each other, then looking back at Chuck and Yancy. They reached out their hands and lifted them up to their feet.

The ringing in his ears became less and the sounds of his surroundings registering in his brain again drew Chuck back into the present. He looked around and his eyes met Yancy's, but the certainty he sought there and usually found there was missing. Instead, he followed Yancy's gaze.

There were two bodies lying right next to them, their faces nearly identical. They were covered in blood and not moving.

Chuck heard his own scream before he was even aware he was screaming. He scrambled towards them on his hands and knees, his hands grabbing at their armor, shaking them back and forth, calling their names.

Yancy and Cheung had to pull him away.

“They're gone, Chuck,” Yancy said, his arms tightening around Chuck's, holding him back as Chuck was still flailing.

“No, no, they can't be,” Chuck rambled, “They were just—”

“They saved your lives,” Cheung's voice came from behind them. “They covered your bodies with their own.”

Tears sprung into Chuck's eyes. “They... they shouldn't have,” he mumbled. _My life isn't worth saving_ , he thought. Not for them. Bruce and Trevin were trained soldiers. Rangers.

“It was their mission,” Cheung said.

Chuck turned around, balling his fists. _This is wrong, this is all wrong—_

And then his gaze went towards the back of the room, towards the elevators; he tried to stop himself, afraid of what he might find, but he couldn’t look away.

The explosion had taken down half the room. The ceiling was ripped open, exposing the ducts above; the walls were crumbling, lights were flickering, the glass floor cracked to expose the sparkle-patterned concrete underneath. Tables, chairs, bodies had blown out into the room. No-one was standing.

They couldn't have survived the blast. Yancy and Chuck hadn't even been that close when the explosion went off. Just looking at the damage that was done to the area... there was no way.

Chuck's feet were moving towards the elevators slowly and Yancy followed close behind. Whoever was left alive was tending to the wounded, the Weis coordinating what was left of the units.

The dust began to clear.

Aleksis was lying on the floor. Chuck almost did not dare to move near him, feeling like he was approaching a sleeping bear of sorts. As if any second Aleksis was going to wake up and roar at them.

Sasha was standing with her back towards them. Dust and blood coated her armor, her blonde hair now darkened. She didn't speak, didn't move. Chuck could only hear her labored breathing, saw the occasional shiver that went through her.

It wasn't just Aleksis. Most of the Alpha unit was gone. Chuck didn't dare look around too much. He knew there were torn apart bodies; he could see limbs, guts, bloodied shapes in his peripheral vision.

His ears were faintly ringing still. His eyes stung. His throat felt scratched up with each breath.

He heard Sasha mutter something, in a kind of rhythm, like a poem or a prayer. He couldn't understand the words.

Jin Wei came up from behind him, walking forward to sit on one knee at Aleksis' side. Jin took off his right hand glove and pressed his fingers to Aleksis' neck. When he rose to his feet, dark-red stained his knee and hand where they had touched the floor.

As deafening as the explosion had been, as silent the room was now. Chuck swallowed. His nausea was gone. Most of what he was feeling was gone. There was just an overwhelming sense of _nothing_ , not even fear or panic—just nothing, like he'd been swallowed up by a black hole. There was something familiar about it.

Finally, a crackle came over the radio.

“Cherno Alpha, this is LOCCENT. Report.”

Sasha turned around slowly. The dark olive green tint of her coat was barely visible from all the blood—hers or Aleksis', Chuck couldn't tell. There was a slow trickle still going from the top of her head down her nose. Her face was dotted with black and red streaks from where the debris hit her. She looked to Jin in front of her, who slowly nodded and gave her his radio piece. She clutched it with a shaky hand and brought it to her face.

“LOCCENT. This is... Cherno Alpha.” Sasha said, her Russian accent thicker than Chuck had ever heard it. For the first time, Sasha looked around the room, and her gaze was ice-cold.

“Elevator hallway was rigged. Heavy casualties Alpha-one and two.” She gritted her teeth.

“Mission Commander, Ranger Aleksis Kaidonovsky... killed in action.”

She dropped the radio on the floor, where Jin hastily picked it up.

“LOCCENT, Crimson Typhoon confirms.” He glanced over to them—Chuck, Yancy, and the bodies of the Gage twins. Jin took a deep breath and sighed. “Rangers Gage killed in action. VIPs unharmed. Request extraction for wounded units. Your orders, Marshall?”

The radio crackled again, and stayed quiet for what seemed for Chuck a long, long time.

Finally, Pentecost's voice came.

“Extraction confirmed at point alpha-four in twenty minutes. Merging Alpha and Typhoon units to field unit Horizon Brave under the command of Mission Commander Sasha Kaidonovsky. You are to proceed with Operation Lion's Den as planned.”

There was a long silence. Sasha didn't move, and Jin glanced at her before switching the radio on again.

“Mission orders received, LOCCENT. Horizon Brave out.”

Sasha walked up to Aleksis and kneeled down at his body. She put a hand on his temple, and then leaned forward, pressing her lips to his, then whispered something. She stayed like that for a minute, and then slowly rose to her feet.

When Chuck saw her face, fresh tears had cut a path through the blood and dust on her face, yet her gaze was as steeled as ever. Sasha picked up Aleksis' shotgun from the floor and cocked it. Then she took a deep breath and began to shout with nothing but raw emotion.

“RANGERS!” she began, her voice reverberating with barely-contained rage. “We have mission to complete! We will make Kaiju motherfuckers pay! We make sure they remember the name _Kaidonovsky_ in their NIGHTMARES! We kill them all and drag them down into hell!!!!”

Her words were full of hate, anger and grief and found a response in what was left of the PPDC force, who joined her in their own cries of anguish and anger, and even Chuck shouted along with them, loud and desperate and until his chest hurt and his throat was raw, one scream after another tearing itself from his chest in cathartic noise.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Operation Lion's Den continues, as the team tries to cope with their losses, and push on towards Hannibal's dungeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> Finally, another chapter! It took a bit longer than I thought - as usual, life happened. Surgery, road trip around Europe, all that. Bad stuff and good stuff. 
> 
> We're getting closer and closer to the finale with this chapter. If you've read this far, I'm impressed, and grateful. It's your readership and comments that keep me going. This is taking a while (literally years) but I promise, it's worth it. I won't leave you hanging. Much.
> 
> Thanks to my lovely betás, [onlyoneday](http://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyoneday/pseuds/onlyoneday) and [SublimeDiscordance](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/pseuds/SublimeDiscordance), keeping the messed up porn alive and grammatically correct
> 
> Love,
> 
> Delta
> 
> Content warnings: dub-con, non-con, PTSD flashbacks.

 

**Scene 80 — Mako**

Useless. She was utterly useless. Mako kept staring at the console screen, frozen.

Sasha's last message was still playing over and over in her mind.

_Ranger Aleksis Kaidonovsky killed in action._

Mako's chest felt tight, like she couldn't breathe, and the numbers and letters of the screen started to dance in her vision. "Sensei," she mumbled, and her feet became unsteady. She clung to the edge of the table.

She should be better than this. Instead, she was useless. She was wounded, stuck here, and out there the people she loved were dying.

_People I love?_

"Mako?" Sensei's voice seemed far away.

_That's right, I didn't really think about it before, but we—_

Somehow, she ended up slumped down in a chair, facing sensei's back. He glanced at her over his shoulder. "Take a short break, Mako," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Mako closed her eyes.

 

* * *

 

The first time she'd seen Aleksis, she'd been so scared. Not as afraid as she was of sensei, but that fear was different, too. Aleksis was enormously tall and broad and imposing and Mako was a barely-trained pet. She wasn't entirely ignorant of what was happening, but she didn't want to put too much thought into it. She knew what the next step was in her training as a pet. She was anxious, afraid, even though it was obvious that it should happen. So when that morning Sasha had come to her she'd frozen up, nails digging into the carpet, eyes flaring, teeth bared, voice hissing.

But Sasha had a way of handling her that made Mako melt. Within seconds the stronger Russian woman had Mako pinned down, arms pulled tight behind her back, fingers teasing her outside and inside. Only when Mako became soaking wet, nearly mewling and begging, had Sasha stopped and called out for Aleksis.

"I have kitty for you," Sasha said as her husband entered the room, and she moved behind Mako, keeping Mako's arms pulled back.

Mako's eyes grew wide and she struggled against Sasha's firm grasp. "Tsk tsk," Sasha purred, "Don't be afraid, little cat."

Aleksis was only wearing leather pants, accentuating the strong lines of his hips, and his legs and his torso seemed to go on forever. His chest looked like it was carved out of stone marble. Dark, heavy eyebrows shielded his gaze as he towered over both women.

Sasha tightened her grip around Mako's wrists further with her right hand, and slid her left hand between Mako's legs.

"Come on, kitten," Sasha said, placing a kiss on Mako's shoulder. "Show yourself to your Trainer."

Sasha hooked her feet under Mako's ankles and pulled her legs wider. Mako whined and shook her head. She was familiar with Sasha now, but this man? She couldn't just show herself like that, he would see everything, he would see how wet she was — Mako tensed her thighs, trying to keep them closed.

"No," Mako whispered. "Please, ma'am..."

Sasha's teeth bit down on her shoulder none too gently. "Bad kitten," she hissed. "What have I taught you?"

Mako shook her head, biting her lip, refusing to answer.

"Maybe I should remind you," Sasha continued, and with that she grabbed Mako by the hair and yanked her back hard. " _'No'_ is not a word you're allowed to use. You're a _pet_. You _obey_."

Mako whimpered, sharp pain shooting from her crown through her spine, and her legs twitched.

Aleksis chuckled. "She likes pain," he mused.

Sasha smiled at him. "Didn't I tell you?" Her hand traced down Mako's side, over her breast and then pinched her left nipple hard. Mako shuddered. "She is masochistic little kitty."

Aleksis leaned forward, cupping Mako's face in his large hand. Mako trembled; her entire head fit into the curve of his palm. And yet, his touch was strangely soft, where she had expected a pinching, rougher grasp.

She dared to flit her eyes up at him, only for a brief moment — and was surprised. His smile wasn't cruel, his eyes weren't as dark as she'd thought, now that they were closer and no longer obscured by his heavy brows. She averted her eyes only for a few seconds and then glanced at him again.

Behind her, she felt Sasha slowly loosen her grip. Mako didn't try to scramble away or flinch.

"Kitten," Aleksis said, his voice low and thick and commanding. Mako knew that commanding tone, but somehow — Aleksis' voice sounded warmer, kinder than sensei's. Her cheeks felt hot.

"S...sir," Mako said softly.

Aleksis gave her another soft smile, and then stood back up and went to sit on the bed, scooting back until his back hit the pillows. The bed was an extra-long king-sized bed that even comfortably accommodated someone of Aleksis' size. And it wasn't made for sleeping. Underneath the sheets the mattress had a latex cover; it had various rings and hooks at the sides, head and end of the bed, and steel bars above and around it as well.

Mako slept in this room, on the carpet, when she wasn't with sensei; she was constantly aware of it all, the bed, her surroundings, the things that were hiding in drawers and closets. She knew the meaning, the use of every item here, even when she hadn’t personally experienced them yet. She knew the purpose of this room, and the purpose of a pet. She wasn't a child anymore. Even if sensei had refused to lay a hand on her until she was 16 she knew about sex, about pet training, and what kind of business the PPDC was. She didn't have any illusions about her life or the lives of those around her. That's why today, on her 18th birthday, she knew exactly what was going to happen.

She thought she would hate it more, and she thought she'd be terrified. She was at first — but Aleksis wasn't the kind of person she'd expected him to be. Up until now, she’d had little interaction with him, and when she had passed him in the hallways he hadn’t spoken to her or even given her a cursory glance. Her impression of him had been that of a frightening, imposing man, but his expression now was neither scary nor imposing.

He patted on his massive thigh. "Come," he simply said.

Sasha let go of her, and stood up. "I'll leave you two to it," she said with a smile. "Behave, kitten. Or perhaps, don't." Sasha chuckled.

Mako turned around, startled by what Sasha said. She was leaving? But — Mako had assumed Sasha would stay here the whole time. Aleksis seemed friendly for now, but he was still strange and huge and at least Sasha was someone she knew! Mako whimpered and tried to reach out, but Sasha ignored her. At that, Mako shrunk, burrowing her head in her hands, Aleksis' command momentarily forgotten.

When Sasha shut the door behind her, it really started to sink in with Mako. Was this it? Was she going to have sex now? She glanced at Aleksis on the bed and only then recalled his command.

She _really_ wanted to curl up and hide. But she'd learned enough to know that was pointless. She'd be found, she'd be brought out, maybe even punished. And maybe she wouldn't even mind being punished that much, but eventually, the thing she feared would still happen. She was a pet. It was like Sasha said. She had to obey. If she didn't they would make her. She knew that much.

And maybe — a part of her was curious, and wanted this, and had been anxiously waiting for it — and Mako remembered how sensei had found her, in Onibaba's brothel when she was barely 10 years old, how she was bathed in blood as sensei's katana sliced through her first intended patron like his body was made of jelly.

Maybe this wasn't ideal. It wasn't the kind of life normal people had, Mako knew; but her life had never once been normal. She hadn't gone to school, she hadn't hung out with friends or gone shopping; she hadn't had a first love or childhood best friend or birthdays with cake or any of the other things she imagined normal girls experienced. And she only knew what normal girls experienced because she had read about it, seen it in movies and documentaries. To Mako, that kind of life was in a different reality altogether. To her, being told what to do and doing it to the best of her ability was her normal. Even before her family had been butchered by the kaiju, she had already received various lessons in music, art, traditional dance, and kendo. She was then expected to grow up a cultured, educated young woman of considerable status, no doubt to be married off to secure an alliance with another influential family.

Was this really so much different than the life that had been laid out for her since birth?

Mako crawled onto the bed, and Aleksis reached out a hand. She blushed and placed her hand in his palm. She felt impossibly small next to him. They must look like a strange pair; a tiny Japanese girl and a giant hulking Russian man.

"Come," Aleksis repeated, and Mako scooted even closer, until she was close enough to feel the warmth radiate off his body. She kneeled between his thighs, her behind resting on her heels, and blushed even more.

Aleksis placed a finger gently under her chin and turned her face up towards his. Again, she was caught off-guard by the look in his eyes, which was friendly instead of intimidating.

"Are you afraid?" Aleksis said.

Mako nodded. "Y-yes, sir," she whispered. Her hands curled up in her lap, fingers digging into the palms of her hands. Now that she couldn't avoid his gaze and he was asking these direct questions, her nerves were trying to find an outlet. Behind her, her toes twitched and curled up.

"Mako, speak louder," Aleksis commanded her, and Mako's eyes grew large in surprise. Her name?! Sasha would never use her name, just _pet_ or _kitten_. This wasn't good. It made her flush even _more_.

She coughed, putting more power to her voice. "Yes, sir," she said.

He beamed at her. "Good. Important I hear you." He carefully ran a hand into her hair, not grabbing it, simply letting the locks fall through his fingers. Mako shuddered.

"I want to hear you a lot," Aleksis continued, and his voice took on that tone again he had used before, lower and heavier.

Mako felt _really_ weird. She didn't feel this way around sensei at all. Not Sasha, either. She squirmed on the bed, not knowing whether to lean forward or run away.

Before she realized what was happening, Aleksis had scooped her up from the bed with his other arm, bringing her face-to-face with him, and with the hand in her hair he tilted her head slightly and kissed her.

Mako's hands twitched against his chest, her eyes falling closed involuntarily. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it was going to burst out of her chest. She was hyper-aware of every place he was touching her, most of all the way his lips pressed against hers, soft and warm. When the tip of his tongue slid out to lick at her lower lip she open her mouth to let him in. The sensation was incredibly strange and hot and she squirmed in his grasp.

At that, he broke off the kiss and chuckled. "You are feeling it, Mako," Aleksis said. The fingers of his hand stroked idly over her thighs and buttocks, avoiding her cunt, but there was no way he couldn't notice — she always got so wet anyway.

"Yes," Mako gasped.

"I am really happy," Aleksis said, and weirdly enough Mako noticed his face was flushed as well. Another thing sensei and Sasha never showed her. "I always see you with Sasha. Always touching you," Aleksis continued. "You are so beautiful, but I never touch."

He ran a finger down her spine and Mako shivered. She felt so, so weird. Her hands had slid up to his shoulders trying to hang on; the sensations coursing through her body were overwhelming.

"Now I touch you," Aleksis said, and Mako didn't fail to notice the desire in his voice.

She bit her lip. How much was she allowed to do? What could she say? She couldn't say no, but — she didn't want to anymore. This was different. She didn't understand it, but she ached, like the wonderful moment of fear and excitement just before the whip would hit drawn out into seconds and minutes and hours.

 _Yes, touch me,_ Mako thought, and it shocked her to think that. Her eyes met his and it felt as if she'd spoken those words out loud. The way he looked at her, it was like he knew.

He leaned forward and sat her down at the end of the bed before scooting back, lifting his hips and tearing off his pants, accompanied by the sound of buttons popping. Then he sat back, observing Mako's reaction.

She'd seen penises before; at Onibaba's brothel, before she had seen her first patron, she had been made to watch others in order to learn. She had seen countless images and films for her education. But she hadn't really seen or touched any up close. Sensei hadn't wanted to do this with her, even though she was very curious.

But Aleksis' was... just like everything else of his body, big. Very big. Even now, when Mako could tell he wasn't fully hard yet. Somehow, it was difficult to look away, and only when Aleksis chuckled did she looked up.

"Come here," he said, gesturing with his hand for her to approach him.

As she crawled up to him, her nerves got the better of her again, and now she was avoiding both his gaze _and_ looking at his cock. She heard Aleksis laugh, and that was oddly disarming; he approached this kind of situation so differently from Sasha, who was very serious about training and proper conduct and was always very strict about establishing their roles. She certainly didn't laugh that heartily.

"I am big, I know," Aleksis said, the laughter audible in his voice. Then his tone got more serious. "Mako," he began, and lifted her chin up to meet his eyes once more. "Want you to please me."

It was more of a command than anything else he'd said before. His tone was unmistakable, even if his expression was still kind.

Mako bit her lip and nodded. "Yes, sir."

Aleksis folded his arms behind his head and leaned back. He seemed content to give her little direction for now, assuming correctly that she had learned enough to know what exactly was expected of her.

She'd been instructed in this by Sasha; she'd been trained with Sasha's fingers, with Sasha wearing a strap-on. Mako knew the movements and actions required. She knew it didn't necessarily feel good or comfortable for her. This was the kind of thing a pet did for their owner.

She crawled up closer to Aleksis, anxious and flushed, and reached out a hand to touch him. She heard Aleksis gasp. Unconsciously holding her own breath she slid her hand down and then up his considerable length, noticing how it twitched and throbbed under her touch. It felt nothing like Sasha's. The skin was hot and soft to the touch, moving along with her hand over the hard flesh underneath which was quickly becoming harder. She slid her hand further up, moving over the glistening head of his cock. Aleksis hissed, his hips moving a little. His reaction made something in Mako's chest tighten, encouraged her, and she leaned forward to press her lips against the base of his cock.

"Yes," Aleksis breathed. "Good."

Mako was happy she was doing good so far. Fear and excitement mingled together in her stomach and she could feel how slippery her thighs were.

She ran her tongue up his length, tasting the salty sweat on his skin, feeling his pulse quicken under her tongue. Mako closed her eyes and then licked up to the head of his cock, and the taste of his precome hit her — a mix of salt and bitter and something intensely _masculine_ , the texture of the fluid new to her as well; slick, yet not sticky.

Aleksis ran a hand into her hair again, not pushing or pulling, simply letting her locks fall through his fingers again. Mako wondered if perhaps he liked her hair. He had called her... beautiful. She didn't think anyone had really called her that before and it made her feel weird. She didn't think of herself as beautiful. She looked nothing like the women she'd seen in books and on film, who were voluptuous, round, with large eyes and thick lips. Sasha was like that too, with blonde hair and curved red lips. Mako didn't really see herself in the mirror that often but when she did, she found her face pale and angled, her eyes and mouth too small compared to those women who were called pretty. She couldn't really fathom how Aleksis could find her beautiful.

She ran her tongue in circles around his cockhead and Aleksis groaned. She could feel the tension in his body. Mako leaned forward and opened her mouth wider. She doubt she could fit most of him. Then she took the head of his cock into her mouth and her own response caught her by surprise, moaning softly at this new sensation. She didn't let off, but her eyes flew open for a moment. She felt Aleksis' hand tighten in her hair and took it as a sign to continue.

She wasn't sure how to describe it — words were starting to fail her as the taste of him filled her mouth. She found herself trying to take in more, taste more, as her tongue caressed every edge and valley it could find.

"Mako," Aleksis rasped, his hips jerking up, and the sudden thrust caught her by surprise. She couldn't take that much of him and coughed, pulling off. Without waiting for more direction or a reply Mako dipped her head down again, determined to not let this discourage her.

"Very good," Aleksis breathed, and then his cock slid out from between her lips as his hands grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up, draping her over his thigh, with her face still towards his erection. Not sure what to do now, she glanced up at him.

Aleksis' expression was different from before — no longer as gentle and friendly, but not scary, either. His eyes had darkened, pupils dilated, his face was flushed, lips parted. It was obvious he was enjoying himself and the fact that she was the cause of this made Mako blush hard.

Aleksis slid his hand back into her hair and carefully guided her back down, which Mako took as a cue to continue. And just as her lips wrapped around him again, his other hand slid up and between her thighs and she let out a loud moan.

She'd been so focused on doing her task right she hadn't realized how much she'd craved his touch and now that his fingers were stroking up and down her wet cunt she couldn't hold back her own reaction at all. Mako mewled, her hips rising up higher to meet his touch, wanting more.

"Continue," Aleksis said, his voice thick with arousal. Mako tried hard to get her focus back but it was nearly impossible now that Aleksis' fingers were teasing her. She took him back into her mouth, this time trying harder to take in more — she felt like Aleksis was rewarding her, and she should be worthy of such attention, earn it from him. Sasha had taught her this too — how to let her jaw go slack and wider, how to swallow around it. But technique or no, there was the issue of him simply not fitting in her mouth. Mako was a perfectionist, though.

And when she managed to take in more — barely an inch — she was immediately rewarded with a thick finger sliding inside her and she cried out with his cock still between her lips. That added sensation made Aleksis groan in return.

"Mako," he breathed out, his finger starting up a slow slide in and out of her. Mako’s hips bucked back to meet his touch, and they continued like this, Aleksis getting harder still on her tongue as a second finger joined the first inside of her, stretching her out as much as possible. After a while, Mako was moaning almost continuously, and Aleksis’ breaths were labored.

“I want you,” Aleksis finally said. “Now.”

Mako pulled off and looked up. She knew what he meant well enough. "Yes, sir," she gasped, shuddering when his fingers slipped out of her. It felt so good, and she couldn't deny she wanted him, too. It didn't make sense, the part of her mind that was still trying to reason said; how were they so drawn to each other, when she had already done much more with Sasha and had never felt this kind of desire?

But she was too eager to think much more about it. This next part, Sasha had taught her, too.

_Unless they command you otherwise, present yourself to your patron as the object you are, for them to readily use._

Mako crawled off of Aleksis and positioned herself at the end of the bed on hands and knees, canting her hips up. Even now she was still incredibly embarrassed, and turned on because she was embarrassed, and breathless because she wanted him, and anxious because he was so big—

The rustle of the sheets told her Aleksis was moving and then she felt his hand press at the small of her back, tilting her a little further open. "Very good girl, Mako," Aleksis said, and then his hand spread her lips and she felt him push against her, thick and hard and _huge_.

It hurt. It really, really hurt. She had thought it would feel good but instead it _burned_ , and she dug her nails into the sheets, falling to her elbows to bury her head in between them.

That's when Aleksis' hand reached into her hair again and this time he did grab it and tugged — not hard or painful, but just enough to indicate she should move along with it, steady and unyielding.

"Is okay," Aleksis said. "Breathe." Mako tried to follow his instruction but couldn't focus on her breathing, not when pain was shooting through her and it felt like she was being ripped open. Her heart rate was speeding up and her gut was telling her to get up and run away.

Aleksis' hand ran down her spine, down her side, resting on her thigh, fingers stroking soft circles on her skin. "Mako," he said firmly, in the commanding tone he had rarely used. "You are pet. Remember training. Do not displease me."

This was unlike anything Aleksis had said and done up until now. He'd been kind, gentle, even openly praising and desiring her, rewarding her when she had not done much to deserve it. This — this is what she had expected from the beginning. Mako felt almost disappointed, but at the same time, put at ease. This was what she knew.

She forced herself to keep her head upright and balance on her hands again. She tried to remember Sasha's words.

_You are a pet. You do not say no. You do not say stop. Your only reason to exist is to please your owner. Pleasing your owner is what gives you the greatest satisfaction. There is nothing else but what your owner wants from you._

Mako took a deep breath. That's right. She was here not to please herself, but to please Aleksis. He wanted her, desired her, but it wasn't about her own comfort. She had been lulled into a false sense of reciprocity by Aleksis' attention, but the truth was such a thing didn't matter.

"Yes, sir," Mako said, and with that, she let go.

As Aleksis pushed further inside her the pain did not become less, but it no longer bothered her; her head began to swim, her body no longer resisting, her hands relaxing, her heart rate slowing. She kind of drifted off and when she came back to it it was because the worst of the pain had faded, and her body told her it was okay now, and that was when Aleksis began to move.

A low whine escaped from her throat before she could stop it. She couldn't really think anymore. She felt split open, Aleksis' hands wrapping around her torso, holding her body as if she weighed nothing, and she gave no resistance at all. With every pull and thrust it was like she was floating up and then being yanked down, over and over, the mix of pain and pleasure rippling through her, building up. His groans rumbled through the room, and she could no longer control her own response, gasping and mewling in return. There was something within reach, something that felt incredible, and if she could just get to it— she was almost there—

"Not yet," Aleksis said, and Mako hadn't even realized she was almost coming. The command was almost too much. She clenched, tensed up, trying to keep the nearly overwhelming sensation at bay.

"Please," she whined, her own voice sounding alien to her. "I want to come, please, sir—"

But Aleksis was merciless now. “No,” he said, and the tone in his voice left no room for doubt. “Not until I say.” He slammed into her again, pulling another cry from her lips, and again, in and out. Mako gritted her teeth trying to keep herself from coming, a task that seemed nearly impossible now, and she wanted it so badly.

“Please sir, please, please,” she mewled with each thrust, her hands clawing at the sheets. The haze she had felt before was gone, and now her body tensed trying to obey, to be good. Tears welled up in her eyes from the sheer effort. “Please,” Mako sobbed.

There was another hard thrust from Aleksis, followed by a deep growl and the sense of liquid heat filling her up, his cock pulsing against her inner walls. Then his fingers were on her clit and his lips on her ear. "Now."

Mako cried out, finally being allowed to come. The powerful orgasm slammed into her like a large ocean wave, sweeping her off her feet, the current nearly pulling her under as she shuddered with pleasure. “Thank you, sir,” she gasped, the gratitude surging up through her as her release did. “Thank you, thank you—”

When she woke up, the room was empty, the lights dimmed. She ached everywhere, but especially between her legs; now that the pleasure was gone, all that remained was the echo of the raw pain. Even if her mind had let go, her body was not used to accommodate what it had been forced to. She was lying on the carpet, the sheets cleaned off the bed, her bowls of water and food refreshed, and a small bowl with warm water and soap waiting next to it. Her body still reeked of sex and sweat and of him, and it was her own responsibility to clean up after.

_You are a pet. Do not expect to be taken care of before, during, or after. You exist only to serve._

For a while she'd been allowed to engage in this fantasy, she realized. Aleksis had been kind to her, as much as he could have been. And she was thankful for it. He was a Trainer, and she was a pet. That is how things were.

She hoped sensei would be pleased with her after today.

 

* * *

 

Mako hadn't thought about her first time with Aleksis in a long time. After that, he and Sasha taught her more, taught her every way to please a patron to the best of her ability. She had always remained thankful of how Aleksis treated her back then, never forgot how he had earnestly called her beautiful. And now... he was gone, and she hadn't even said goodbye. She had never been able to tell him. Maybe she hadn't even realized. They were all caught up in this messed-up world, and none of them were afforded any such kindness. They were all doing their duty, doing what was expected of them...

"Mako," sensei's voice came, and he was holding something in front of her, a white shape she couldn't really see through the tears.

_When did I start crying?_

Mako reached out, taking the handkerchief from him and wiped at her face until her vision started to clear a little.

"The mission needs you," sensei said, his voice stern. Mako looked up at him. "Do not let their sacrifice be in vain."

Mako swallowed hard and steeled herself. "Yes, sensei," she replied, and got up, assuming her post at the console, even as her face was still red and her tears hadn’t dried up yet. "Ready."

 

**Scene 81 — Chuck**

The Horizon unit had gathered in the elevator room. Compared to how many of them there had been starting out, Chuck was shocked how little there was left of their forces now — after the wounded had left for the extraction point with a small escort, it was only him, Yancy, Sasha, the Wei triplets and a dozen soldiers left. _This was it? This was the group that had to go rescue Raleigh and his old man?_ If they were going to meet any more resistance, they would fail. Chuck clenched his fists, trying to not think of the worst case scenario, so he invariably did. Maybe they would die. Maybe all that was waiting for them downstairs was a trap. Maybe it was all Hannibal and his goons and they’d be slaughtered. Or worse, captured. He would rather die than be captured by Hannibal again. Chuck was starting to think about how he’d go about that. He had a gun, right? How hard could it be? But then he thought about Raleigh, and his old man, and how they had to save them, and his thoughts kept going in circles like that.

Yancy was hovering near his side the whole time, but wasn't talking to him, wasn’t touching him. Whenever Chuck shot him a glance Yancy seemed as out of it as Chuck was. That didn’t help. Chuck was used to looking for Yancy for guidance, for some hint of stability. He didn’t recognize Yancy like this and that just made him feel even worse.

The explosion had torn up most of the elevator room, but Chuck had to give Hannibal props for construction. The Bone Slum wasn't just a bunker on the outside. Even now the top floor wasn't coming down, the blast mostly having exposed the steel beams in the reinforced concrete.

The Weis had been inspecting most of the room, Sasha guarding the place like a silent pillar of narrowly contained rage. Chuck didn't dare speak up to any of them. The other dozen PPDC soldiers seemed just as tense. Chuck tried to push down his bubbling anxiety as much as possible, observing the triplets' careful work.

Finally, they came back.

"The front two elevator shafts have collapsed from the explosion," Jin reported to Sasha. "The large elevator at the back is intact. However, the car is stuck halfway down."

"Plan of action?" Sasha said with a grim expression.

"Our first task is to secure the car. It may be rigged as well," Cheung replied. "Then we should bring it down to the basement level, secure the rappel lines from this room, and move down the shaft, climb into the car and exit to the basement that way."

Sasha nodded. "Do it."

The Weis looked at each other. "If the car is rigged to explode, the shaft will collapse," Cheung explained.

Sasha stared them down. "Then make sure it does not."

Chuck swallowed hard and glanced at the Weis. The command seemed impossible. The mission seemed ready to fail at this point. What were they going to do? There was a sudden pang in his chest and he looked back towards the door leading to the VIP area. There was still the silhouette of Aleksis lying on the floor; and somewhere beyond there, the Gages. He'd barely known them, but now — he really, really wished they were still here. They'd given him the faith that things were going to work out. Now, everything was literally blown to hell.

"Aye-aye, ma'am," the Weis said as once, and they promptly turned around and walked to the elevator in the back, grabbing the gear they had left there. The three of them hovered forward to gaze down the elevator shaft, and then they looked at each other, nodding. And with near-synchronous movement they grabbed their handguns, aimed down, and fired.

"...the fuck!" Yancy exclaimed, and it was the first thing he'd said in a while. Somehow, it made Chuck feel more at ease. At least Yancy had snapped out of his daze.

When the noise from the shots cleared, nothing else came. The Weis turned towards each other, balled their left hands into fists, and promptly began to play rock-paper-scissors with each other.

Chuck blinked and glanced at Yancy, who was looking at the Weis with an expression of bafflement. "They're seriously deciding who goes down with rock-paper-scissors?" Yancy said to himself, scratching his head in wonder.

Chuck moved to stand closer to him. "I guess," he said carefully.

Yancy turned around slightly and looked at Chuck. He licked his lips. "How are you feeling?" he ventured.

Chuck shrugged. "About as well as anyone else here," he mumbled.

Yancy sighed. "Yeah." Then he placed a hand on Chuck's shoulder and squeezed. Chuck was glad for the small gesture. He didn't quite know what to do or how to behave right now, but he was glad Yancy was there, and in a way, he was glad Yancy wasn't alone here. It was the first time during the whole mission he didn't regret coming along, and he leaned in a little bit.

"Hey... do you think we'll be okay?" Chuck said softly. "Do you think we'll get Raleigh back? And my old man?"

Yancy's hand squeezed again and he pulled Chuck in, slinging his arm over Chuck's shoulder. Yancy swallowed and for a while he didn't answer.

"Yeah," Yancy eventually answered. "We have to."

Chuck felt a weird mix of comfort and discomfort. Like, it was good to have Yancy physically close to him. His body responded to Yancy like some sort of security blanket, even though Chuck knew that was his conditioning, it still felt nice. But things were still weird between them. He was still pissed at Yancy for releasing him and jumping Mako at the soonest opportunity and Yancy was clearly trying to hold it together himself and doing a poor job of it.

They’d just have to get through this, Chuck thought. Just put one foot in front of the other. Or one hand in front of the other, for that matter. He remembered crawling over the floor now littered with steel and concrete many times… well. Maybe the destruction of this place was something he could feel good about, then.

It appeared Hu had lost the game. They had attached a grappling hook and line to the top of the elevator and Hu had looped the line through the hook on his belt. He glanced at his brothers, before embracing each of them. Then he looked at the back, saluting Sasha and the others. Finally, he gave them a nod, and climbed down the shaft.

First they heard only the thuds and clangs echoing up. It stayed silent for a few more minutes, and then they heard Hu call up. Jin and Cheung called back, and smiled at each other.

"The shaft and car are secure, ma'am," Jin called to Sasha, visibly relieved. "Proceeding to take the car down with localized charges."

"Yes," Sasha replied, not mincing any more words than absolutely necessary.

Hu emerged about ten minutes later, and the three of them walked back towards the rest of the unit. Then Hu ignited the charges and four small bangs echoed through the shaft before a loud screeching noise began.

"Looks like it's moving," Jin said.

"Of course," Hu replied, glad that he had been successful. After another ten minutes, there was a loud thud, and the screeching noise stopped.

The three of them walked towards the elevator shaft again, and Hu quickly hooked himself back to the rappel line, jumping downward.

There was a lot of waiting involved, Chuck thought. But he was glad the Weis obviously knew what they were doing. They'd bullied him a little before, but he honestly had respect for them now. He could see they were also unsettled, but nothing could distract them from their mission objective; even when one of them could die, they didn't hesitate. Chuck was impressed, and even a little envious.

Hu came through on the radio. "Car secure on basement level. Ready for backup."

"Good," Sasha said. She tapped the radio Jin had given her. "LOCCENT, this is Horizon unit. We move down."

"Affirmative, Horizon. Expect interruption in communications inside shielded basement, switch to radio pulse," Mako's voice came back.

"Affirmative, LOCCENT," Sasha said. "Switching to radio pulse. Horizon out."

And with that, they began to move. Jin and Cheung stayed at the top level, guiding the first six PPDC soldiers down from their position. After more waiting, Hu signaled that the car and the surrounding hall was secured. Jin then gestured for Chuck and Yancy to approach the elevator. There were two hooks now, and Cheung attached Yancy to one line, himself to the other. Together they rappelled down. Chuck glanced into the shaft. It was further down than he thought. In his memory, the basement wasn't that far from the top level; but his memory was blurry, and right now he wasn't sure of much of anything anymore.

Then Jin gestured for Chuck to come stand next to him, and he proceeded to hook the line through Chuck's belt, too. "Don't worry," Jin said. "I'm coming along down with you." Chuck nodded. He had no idea how to do this. "Just hold the line here, and here," Jin showed him, placing Chuck's hands on the gear. Then he fastened himself to the other line. "Back towards the shaft like this," Jin continued. Chuck faithfully followed Jin's instructions, frankly terrified of falling to his death otherwise, and he was grateful for his trained skill of focusing under pressure and near-constant anxiety. He wondered if _that's_ what pets and soldiers had in common.

The descent went much faster than he thought, with Jin sticking close to him, adjusting Chuck's grip and lines swiftly whenever he fell back or forward too much. Before Chuck knew it his feet landed on the elevator car, and Jin was unhooking him from the line, and then lowering him down the latch at the top. It was Yancy who caught him on his way down, obviously relieved at Chuck having made it. The narrow space of the elevator made Chuck nervous, and was glad when Yancy guided him towards the hall outside.

He’d barely set three steps outside of the elevator into the hall when Chuck reeled, swaying on his feet. He felt awful, like he was punched in the face and the stomach simultaneously. He doubled over and fell to his knees. "No, not again," he mumbled, now recognizing the feeling of the flashback surging up through him. "I don't want to go back—"

Yancy was right next to him. "Stay with me, Chuck. Listen to my voice. Stay here. Chuck. Chuck! Chuck—"

_Downstairs he at least didn't have to crawl over the floor. His handler yanked him out of the elevator by the leash, the collar around his throat tightening and making him cough. He had to keep up the pace even though he could barely walk after this night; the guards had been particularly rough this time. He was covered in dirt and liquor and come, his ass and throat were fucked raw. He saw and felt it all as if he was far, far away — embracing that familiar darkness he'd learned to grasp inside of him. Somewhere in his mind was a constant litany of a name, almost like a prayer; Yancy, Yancy, yancyyancyyanceownersavemepleaseyancypleasecomeforme—_

_He was thrown back into his cell and the door locked behind him and he was grateful for finally being alone. He noticed then, hidden behind the toilet, there was a small bucket with soap. He was grateful for that too, and dutifully began to wash himself. One of the basement guards did this for him. He didn't know who it was or why, but occasionally there would be small stuff like this. Soap, or some candy, or something in English to read. It was nice. Knowing that someone out there thought of him. It made him feel a little bit human again..._

"Yancy, Yancy, Yancy," Chuck gasped over and over again, curled into a ball on the floor, shaking his head. "Save me save me please owner please Yancy—"

"I'm here. I'm here," Yancy replied, crouching down next to Chuck and wrapping his arms around him. "I'm here, Chuck. You're safe, pet. Come back. It's okay. Listen to my voice, pet. Come back to me."

Yancy spoke those words over and over until finally, Chuck seemed to come out of it, looking up to make eye contact.

"Yes. That's it," Yancy said. "Follow my voice, I’m here, you’re here with me, pet—"

Chuck uncurled, wiping a hand down his face. "'m sorry," he mumbled. Now that his surroundings were coming back to him, he felt even more exhausted than before, and vaguely aware he was probably stalling the mission.

Once again, he'd needed Yancy to come and save him. He was so sick of this.

"It's okay," Yancy replied. Then he frowned. "Chuck, I—"

"Don't worry about it," Chuck interrupted him. He knew how things were now. Yancy had released him, Yancy was with Mako, and it was just that he kept having these godawful flashbacks or whatever, that he kept clinging to the man. It was really, really pissing him off, now more than ever. He stood up, unsteady on his feet, even more annoyed by Yancy trying to keep him steady, and not even having the strength himself to push Yancy off him. "It's just for the mission. I _know._ "

Yancy's expression was pained, but he didn't say anything.

It was Sasha who clasped a hand on Chuck's shoulder, lending him a sense of steadiness. "You good?" she said, glancing at him. She didn't seem worried over him, but rather, expectant.

Chuck nodded, steeling himself. "Yes. Ma'am."

"Good," Sasha replied. "We move out."

 

* * *

 

With Sasha taking point along with Jin, they moved forward. Chuck and Yancy were in the middle of the dozen PPDC soldiers and Cheung and Hu were taking up the rear. Chuck felt sick, but that was nothing new at this point — he figured he'd been wanting to throw up for most of the mission. His surroundings were too goddamn familiar and he tried to just stare at the back of the soldier in front of him, studying meaningless details like the number of clasps, the pattern of the armor fabric, the dents and scratches that the mission so far had left on them.

The basement of the Bone Slum was a maze; Chuck had never figured out his way around. He hoped that whatever information the PPDC was working off of was accurate — information from Scott, he thought, and promptly tried to throw that thought as far away from his consciousness as possible.

The basement was deserted, too; there were no more guards. Chuck was simultaneously relieved and worried. He wasn't looking forward to another firefight, but if there were any more traps, they might be screwed even more. Did Hannibal expect them to get to this point?

They moved through hallway after hallway, kicking open doors, finding empty dungeon rooms; Chuck wisely stayed outside at Yancy's side whilst the soldiers inspected the rooms. He'd seen the inside of those too often already, and he wasn't curious to see what they looked like now. He could imagine — chains, ropes, torture chairs, cages, whatever. There had been themed rooms, like a surgery theatre, an office room, a medieval room... the tastes of Hannibal's clientèle ran far and wide. He really didn't need to see any of that shit again.

Eventually, it seemed like their surroundings were changing, the hallways becoming darker, the linoleum of the floor and the paneling on the walls running out, exposing the concrete below. Chuck didn't know this part of the dungeon, at least not consciously. They descended down a staircase two levels and came out to a bigger hallway that forked to the left and right.

Sasha held up her hand and the group came to a standstill. She tapped her radio and a high-pitch sound beeped in a quick, rhythmic pattern before dying out. About a minute later, there was a series of beeps in response.

"Location reported," Sasha said to her unit. She looked at the hallway to the left and the one to the right. "We split up," she said eventually. "Chuck, Yancy, private Greene, Flint, Torres, Kim, Gibbs, Ashida, with me. Horizon One. Others with Wei. Horizon Two."

The unit split up, having fragmented even further, and Chuck wondered if they were going to succeed at all, as the nine of them continued down the left hallway.

There were no lights around here, and the privates had the guns on their lights on as Chuck and Yancy moved along in the middle of the six of them, Sasha still taking point. Chuck was surprised Sasha had known all of them by name. Somewhere along the line she'd taken the effort of learning them, even though at the start of the mission they must've been at least a hundred PPDC soldiers. Now there were only twelve left, along with the Rangers. A title Chuck still didn't think he deserved — compared to what the Gages had done. Or Aleksis. Even the Weis, who had readily faced the odds of one of them dying in the elevator shaft. And Sasha, continuing to lead the mission, despite having lost her husband to it. Yancy... well. At least he knew what he was doing more than Chuck. He couldn't even turn a corridor without wanting to vomit or having a minor flashback.

The longer they walked through the dark corridors, the more Chuck started to lose sense of time and direction. He couldn't tell whether they'd be walking around for fifteen minutes, or five hours.  Just when he started to wonder if they were ever going to make any progress, or Hannibal had just tricked them into walking around in a dark maze, the end of the corridor lit up. They emerged in a larger room with a bright, illuminated window.

At the other side of the window, Raleigh sat, bound to a chair.

"Raleigh," Chuck said in barely more than a whisper.

Raleigh turned his head and looked up, as if he heard, giving a weak smile, lips mouthing a word.

"Raleigh!!!”

Chuck bolted. Adrenaline flooded his system and he sprinted forward, towards the steel door, expecting it to be shut but it flew open and he dashed towards Raleigh, nearly tripping over his own feet from the speed, his hands reaching out to grab Raleigh, untie him, hold him—

He skidded over the concrete floor, hands grabbing at the air, finding nothing where he expected Raleigh to be.

The hologram flickered around him briefly before disappearing.


	17. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 23k words of action, drama and disturbing shit. This is the Finale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovely wonderful readers,
> 
> I know I've kept you waiting a while since the last chapter, but I wanted to make sure this was done right. The finale, the big crux of this whole volume of Rain, is here. Finale-y. 23k words of action, drama and disturbing shit.
> 
> This fanfic has become so much more than I had initially planned, but this -- the raid, the big escape, the betrayal, it was always a part of it.
> 
> Hang on for a bit longer after this. There is an epilogue on the way that will give you the thing I have been promising since like, chapter 2.
> 
> I couldn't have come this far without my friends and my bèta readers. Karmas_Bitch, even though we're out of touch now, you dragged my ass through the toughest parts of this story and helped make it better, and I am grateful for that. onlyoneday, for reviewing the later chapters, for continuing to ask about Rain, sending me links to images or music or memes, always keeping me inspired. SublimeDiscordance, for not sending assassins after me for what I did to your favorite twins. 
> 
> And finally, all of you, man. I can't believe you stuck around for as long as you have and that you were still here after all this time. I hope I am able to give you what you desire. 
> 
> Love,
> 
> Delta
> 
>  
> 
> \---  
> Trigger warnings: rape, violence, murder, blood, vomiting, character death

**Finale**

"Chuck!!!" Yancy called out, scrambling to grab Chuck, but the boy was too fast, dashing towards the door. "Chuck, wait!"

Yancy bolted after him. The door opened readily for Chuck, and then slammed shut, trapping Yancy and everyone else outside.

"Shit!" Yancy's fists slammed against the steel door. "Fuck, fuck!!!" He turned around towards Sasha. "Do something!"

Sasha unfolded her arms and stepped towards the window, eyes narrowing. Yancy stepped back, following her gaze, and watched Chuck fall through the hologram of Raleigh.

"Rals.... shit!" Yancy exclaimed.

A door slid open at the back of the room and a large man appeared; wearing an elaborate red coat and waistcoat, golden tie, red-tinted goggles and gold-plated shoes.

"Hannibal Chau," Sasha spat out, her face twisting in disgust.

Yancy's eyes grew large. "That's him?"

Sasha didn't answer.

Hannibal approached Chuck with decided steps, and Yancy fruitlessly slammed his fists against the glass.

Chuck was frozen in place. The second Hannibal had walked through the doorstep fear had slammed into him, pinning him to the ground, and all he could do was stare in terror as the man who had subjected him to countless acts of rape, violence and torture slowly approached him. The signature sound of those gold-plated shoes, jingling with every step, came to Chuck as being punched in the chest.

He thought he'd be angrier. He'd foolishly thought he would be able to stand up to this man, confront him, spit in his face.

He was utterly defeated.

His limbs wouldn't move as Hannibal came to stand in front of him and cupped his jaw in a leather-gloved hand.

"Charlie," Hannibal said, the words slithering from his mouth like oil, resonating sickly in Chuck, black tendrils gripping at his insides.

_ No, _ Chuck thought.  _ No, no, not this, not again. Go away, just go away—Don't say it, don't say it— _

"My favorite pet. So obedient." Hannibal continued.

Chuck dug his nails into his palm, hard enough to almost draw blood. He had to get up, he had to run away but he couldn't— _ just stop just stop please— _

_ "My little Striker Eureka." _

The black filled him from the inside out, swallowing him whole. A constant drumming noise beat on his skull. His hands were not his own, his voice was not his own, his body was not his own. He moved without thought or intention.

Chuck watched himself from very, very far away. _ Not again, not this, no, no, no, stop— _

His hands started to undo his armor, clasp by clasp, zipper by zipper, until he was stripped naked, and then he kneeled in front of Hannibal; knees wide, arms behind his back. When he spoke, it was empty and monotone. "Master."

-

At the other side of the window, Yancy stared in abject horror. He knew what was happening. He couldn't  _ hear _ it, but he had trained Chuck well enough to know that Hannibal had given some kind of command that Chuck responded to.  _ I taught him how to do this, _ Yancy thought.  _ I was the one who trained him. Hannibal simply reaped the benefits and corrupted them for himself— _

"Stand back," Sasha said, and the six PPDC soldiers moved forward, aiming their guns at the window.

"NO!" Yancy called out, jumping in between. "You could harm him! You could trigger another explosion! Fuck... let me think." His mind was racing as he was trying hard to push down the rage that was simmering in his blood, the constant chant of  _ mineminemine _ at seeing Chuck submit to Hannibal—they thought they'd found Raleigh but it had been another trap—he had to fucking  _ think, _ he didn't have Sasha's brute strength or Chuck's experience of the place, he had—

"Shit," Yancy mumbled, fumbling with his armor to take it off. "Why the fuck didn't I fucking think of this sooner."

"What are you doing," Sasha said, narrowing her eyes at Yancy, who'd discarded his vest and was digging into the pockets of his jumpsuit underneath. He finally pulled out a small rectangular computer tablet, slightly bigger than his hand.

"God, I hope it still works down here," Yancy continued to mutter, ignoring Sasha's questions. Then his eyes flashed up at her. "Tell me what's happening."

Sasha blinked, surprised at Yancy giving  _ her _ orders, but she glanced at the window all the same. The sight was not pretty. With one hand Hannibal had yanked Chuck's head back far enough he could barely breathe, and Hannibal had half his hand shoved down Chuck's throat. Chuck was gagging, coughing, his eyes tearing up from the reflex, saliva dripping down his chin. But Chuck did not look otherwise harmed or dead. "We have time," Sasha replied with what tact she could muster. If Yancy had an idea, keeping him focused was important.

Yancy tapped at his tablet and then walked up to the door. "Last secure server download three hours ago," he said to no-one in particular. "Should work locally for now." He swiped his tablet over and around the door frame. "Signal barely coming through... Faraday blocking to be expected. Scanning for weak spot.”

The rest of them stared in confusion, not sure what else to do, but hoping that Yancy actually knew what he was doing. After a few seconds, Yancy tapped a spot next to the door at knee level. “Found it,” he mumbled. He was preoccupied a while longer before muttering a curse. He threw a look back to the soldiers. "You over there. One of you. Over here."

They first looked towards Sasha for approval. "Do as he says and quick," she replied, and one of the privates ran up to Yancy.

"You. What's your name?" Yancy began.

"Private Flint. Ilisapie Flint," the private replied. "What do you need?"

"I need you to shoot off this panel, Flint," Yancy said, tapping on the same spot he’d been working on. "And be damn careful not to shoot  _ through it. _ Think you can do that?"

Flint leaned forward, knocking on the panel a few times. "Yes. Stand back, sir."

Yancy nodded, walking back a few feet to stand behind the private, who raised her gun to aim at the panel at an angle. "Ready," Flint said, and fired off a shot. The bullet ricocheted off to the side and the panel flung open. Yancy went right back up to it.

"Good. Thanks," he said, and held his tablet in front of the exposed wires. "Better."

Sasha had been observing the window. Things weren't improving. "What are you doing, Ranger Becket?" she repeated her question.

Yancy didn't even look up, but continued to fidget with his tablet and the wiring and electronics in the wall. "Raleigh. The hologram. There's gotta be a signal," he replied. "Hannibal's tech capabilities unknown, expect average-to-high encryption. Should be able to trace the signal back to the source."

"And find Raleigh," Sasha said.

"Yes," Yancy said. "But it's more than that. The response of the door was fast, milliseconds, barely any lag. The control room has to be close. At the other side of this room, I bet. Where Hannibal came from. If I can trace the signal, piggyback on the callback, spoof the encryption, I've got a way in."

"Good," Sasha replied. She didn't understand much of it, but Yancy knew what he was doing. It wasn't a mistake to bring him, after all. She had underestimated him. For a trainer who mostly knew his way around computers, finances and drugs, he had kept his shit together with bullets flying around him. She wondered if Pentecost had anticipated this.

Sasha didn't look away from the window. What Hannibal was doing to Chuck wasn't good. She knew Chuck was a trained pet, and she knew Chuck; not better than Yancy knew him, but better than most. And Chuck had made it through worse than most Rangers did in their training. She hoped he would be able to bear the stress again this time. And whilst she'd noticed the six PPDC soldiers had turned their heads away from the scene, she continued to bear witness to it. Someone had to, Sasha thought, and then grimaced at the pang in her chest. That was the kind of thing Aleksis would have said. Big man, small heart.

She kind of still wanted to throw every bullet they had at the window, but Yancy was right. Not only did they risk harming Chuck, they might blow their chances at finding Raleigh. She would have to be patient.

-

Chuck's vision was blurred from the tears that sprung in his eyes as Hannibal fucked his throat. His face, chin and chest were wet from saliva, and Hannibal was handling him rough enough that Chuck couldn't relax his gag reflexes; bile from his stomach burned in his throat and on his tongue. Hannibal was holding his arms up with one hand, shoving his head back and forth with the other like a ragdoll. Hannibal was always rough, Chuck remembered. Worse than any of his patrons. Inside his mind, Chuck screamed.

* * *

Jazmine was dreaming. It was a normal dream; she was wandering the halls of her home, trying to move forward clumsily with her chair, the left wheel somehow giving her trouble; she needed to get down for breakfast or Raleigh would be lonely—

A scream pierced through her mind, and in her dream the walls shook.

The painting that was on the wall to her left began to change and Jazmine paused to look at it, moving closer. She tried to focus on the blurry image, and sounds were coming from it, bad sounds—it sounded like someone was crying, but she couldn't hear properly. Jazmine leaned forward more, and then she was caught in the painting, falling into the wall, falling forward and forward—

Her feet landed on the concrete floor of a small room. In the corner, on a rough bed with no blanket or pillow, a small naked figure was huddled together, sobbing. Their body was dirty, the red tint of their hair barely visible from all the dust and grease in it.

"Hey," Jazmine said carefully. "It's... it's okay, I'm here."

The figure flinched as she spoke, but then hesitantly lifted their head to gaze at Jazmine. There was a flash of recognition in those green eyes. And Jazmine knew that tear-stained face.

"...Chuck?"

She shuffled forward a little, reaching out her hand. "What's wrong?"

Chuck's hands dug into his knees. "It's happening again," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I can't stop it, I can't..." His lip trembled and then he buried his head in his arms again with a sob.

"I'm here now," Jazmine said. "It's going to be okay." She moved even closer, and this time Chuck didn't flinch. She slowly sat down on the bed, the stone cold to her skin. "Talk to me, Chuck."

Chuck didn't look up. "He's hurting me," he said after a while. "He won't stop, he never stops. He puts me in here and then I can't do anything."

Jazmine remembered taking in Chuck's memories before. But she didn't know this.

She was becoming more and more aware of what was happening. When she had first leaned towards the painting, she had suspected she was dreaming. It often happened that she awoke during a dream and was able to do things, like flying or eating her favorite foods or dancing, but ever since she had left the mansion she hadn't really done that anymore. As she had fallen into the jail cell, she had wondered if something else was going on, because the cell looked familiar—and she'd recognized it as a part of Chuck's memories, and then she had recognized Chuck.

Jazmine remembered what she had learned during the ritual at the Sanctuary.  _ Is this the Drift? Am I in it? Is this Chuck, or is it inside his mind? _

After the ritual, Kaori had helped her focus her meditations, and as a result her pain from the Drift had begun to lessen. But this was new to her. If this was really Chuck... he had called out desperately, and she had heard. She had to help him. Jazmine only hoped she could do it without hurting herself.

"Chuck... can you come closer to me?" Jazmine ventured. She really didn't know how else to approach this situation, but she couldn't bear seeing Chuck sitting there like that, alone and cold and pitiful.

Chuck glanced up at her again with both fear and hope. Jazmine kept her hand reached out and gave him an encouraging smile. After a few long moments of shuffling back and forth, Chuck finally scooted a bit closer to her, and then, uncurled his arm to reach out to Jazmine's hand.

The jail cell burst apart as their hands slotted together.

Jazmine squinted, the white light making her eyes sting. "Chuck?" she said. She could still feel his hand in hers. When the brightness began to fade, she saw Chuck standing next to her—not small or dirty now, but the Chuck she had gotten to know, the one who had come to her room with curiosity and kindness, who had gotten her out of there, the one who had risked his own safety to help her. In the corner of her eye, there were two figures, but she focused on Chuck first.

When he turned towards her Jazmine saw that his eyes were still as haunted and afraid as that of the boy in the cell.

Chuck frowned. "...Jazmine?"

"Yeah," Jazmine answered. "I'm here."

Chuck's eyes went wide. "That's—that's not good. You shouldn't be here. You'll see—"

"See what?" Jazmine said. She turned towards the figures she'd seen before. It must have something to do with what Chuck had told her in the cell, something bad.

Chuck looked panicked and dashed forward, standing in front of Jazmine to block her view. "You can't!"

Jazmine's brow scrunched together in worry and recalled what Chuck had said before, in the cell. "Is that the bad thing that's happening? Are you being hurt by someone?"

Chuck's eyes went wide in shock. "Don't look, Jaz—please don't," he begged her. "Not this."

Jazmine licked her lips in thought for a few seconds, and then looked at Chuck again. "But I've seen it before," she hazarded. "I saw it all, and I am okay, right? I still like you, Chuck."

Chuck's lip trembled and he shook his head from side to side. "No, not this, Jaz—I didn't even... it wasn't there before and then it was, when  _ he _ said those words, I..." Tears welled up in his eyes. "Please Jaz, just don't look, promise me."

Jazmine let her gaze fall to her feet, and turned around, away from what Chuck didn't want her to see. "Okay," she said. "I promise. But you have to let me help."

Chuck let out a sigh of relief. He stayed put, still standing between Jazmine and the scene behind him. "Jaz, I... I don't know how you could help. Nobody can."

Jazmine rubbed at her eyes. She was starting to feel tired—inside her own dream? Or the Drift, or whatever this was. It felt like a bad sign. "Chuck, I thought that too," she began. "Then my friends helped me. You remember? I went away on a boat. But I went to this new place, they call it the—ah, um..." she hesitated. Was she allowed to tell Chuck about the Academy? Kaori had been very clear that the PPDC was dangerous. But in the Drift, Jazmine had seen they should work together. Kaori had agreed with that too. And she was Drifting now, right? If that's what it was called. "It's like a school," Jazmine explained. "I have friends there. They helped me when I was in trouble, and I couldn’t have done it without them. You have to let people help you, Chuck."

Chuck buried his face in his hands. "I just don't see how," he mumbled. "I can't do anything."

Jazmine smiled, turned around and careful not to look behind him, gently took Chuck's hands from his face into her own and gave them a small squeeze. "But maybe together,  _ we _ can."

* * *

Sasha could stomach a lot, she'd seen a lot, back in Russia. She rarely thought of where she came from, what her youth had been like, before she had met Aleksis, and before they had met Pentecost. But what she was seeing now reminded her of that time.

"Yancy," she said, gritting her teeth. "Hurry."

Yancy was still sitting on one knee in front of the blown-off door panel, typing commands into his tablet as fast as he was able to. He flinched when Sasha talked to him, understanding what she meant, willing himself not to look up. He had to keep his focus, he couldn't lose himself to anger and jealousy and outrage—not now. Chuck needed him doing this and every second wasted on emotions was a second Chuck couldn't spare.

Hannibal was dragging Chuck by the hairs through the room, towards the window. Chuck offered no resistance, his body still as limp as a doll, moving only how Hannibal positioned him.

Standing in front of the window, Hannibal showed her a cruel, smug smile. Then he turned around, grabbed Chuck by the back of his neck and slammed him face first against the window with a sickening thud. Sasha jolted back in shock. "Jesus," she mumbled.

Chuck's nose had started to bleed, the thick red liquid slowly dripping down the glass. His eyes looked hollow, empty. Like there wasn't even anyone in there. His mouth was slack, lips bruised purple and bleeding from the cracks. Behind him, Hannibal was undoing the belt and zipper on his pants.

"Yancy—" Sasha started.

"I almost got it," Yancy said, panic setting in at what he was hearing—the thud against the window, Sasha's curse.  _ Hang in there Chuck, please just hang in there, I'm going to kill that fucking bastard I'm going to tear him apart for touching what is mine mine m—focus, focus Yancy, fuck— _

"Squad in position," Sasha said. "Ready to take Hannibal down. Do not kill." Behind her, the six soldiers moved, taking up position at the door with their non-lethal arms.

"I'm in," Yancy said. "Running encryption tool now—tracing signal... fuck, fuck—come on!"

_ Chuck, _ Jazmine's voice came to him.  _ I'm here with you. Listen to my voice. _

Chuck blinked. He wasn't sure—he'd been somewhere else, but—now his face was pressed against something cold and hard and he could barely breathe, or see, jolts of pain shooting through his entire head. Everything hurt—his temples, his nose, his mouth, jaw, throat—and then more of his memory came back and his eyes went wild.

_ Hannibal. No. No no no no no— _

Sasha saw the life return to Chuck's eyes and with it, the sudden panic.

_ Chuck, don't panic, listen to me, focus on my voice, _ Jazmine said, and Chuck wondered if he was hallucinating or dying or both to be hearing Jazmine at this point.

_ I'm here with you, Chuck. You showed me. It's going to be okay. _

Chuck's eyes met Sasha's through the window and a gulf of shame swept over him.  _ She is seeing me like this, no, please no, please don't look—I couldn't stop him— _

_ Listen to my voice, Chuck. This is what we're going to do. _

"Signal decrypted," Yancy called out. "I have Raleigh's coordinates. Transmitting through coded pulse—now!"

* * *

A full three seconds later, a bright circle lit up on the LOCCENT mission screen. Mako's heart skipped a beat.

"Sensei! We have Raleigh's position!" she called out.

Pentecost's face actually broke out into something approaching a smile. Triumphantly, he clapped his hands down on the desk. "Miss Mori, open secure link interface. Enter the following authorization code; CO-TA-4551-671-SEV-512. Connect."

Mako typed as fast as she could. She didn't know about this part of the mission and wondered what sensei's plan was. Now that they had Raleigh's coordinates, the mission had a chance of succeeding. She hoped the Horizon unit would be able to find Hercules Hansen, next. The previous pulse had an OK from the unit and an indication code that they had split up.

The screen beeped. "Secure connection open, sensei," Mako said.

"Team Coyote Tango, this is LOCCENT," Pentecost said into his microphone. "Sending coordinates to target Yankee. Capture by any means necessary. Stay dark. LOCCENT out."

“Connection closed.” Mako raised her eyebrows. She hadn't heard of a team Coyote Tango. What was going on? She opened her mouth to ask Pentecost the question, but he interrupted her.

"It is Tamsin's infiltration team," he explained. "They have gone in dark and were waiting for the coordinates."

Mako frowned. It didn't make sense. If Tamsin's team was standing by for Raleigh's coordinates, then...

Pentecost saw the realisation dawn on her and nodded grimly. "I never expected either Mr. Becket or Hercules to be inside the Bone Slum," he said. "I interrogated Scott myself for weeks on end. He never truly broke. He supplied us with the information he wanted us to have."

It took Mako a minute or two to fully process the information and draw the only conclusion possible.

Her nails scratched over the brushed steel edge of the table. "You mean... this was a trap? And you  _ knew _ ?" She had a hard time keeping her voice level.

"Yes," Pentecost replied simply. His face had gone back to his usual stern poker face—if he felt anger or guilt or even self-satisfaction, it did not show.

"But you knew they would find the coordinates?" Mako continued. This was unbelievable. Her blood started to boil with anger. Her friends, her lovers, were risking their lives—Aleksis was  _ dead _ and it had been a trap this whole time? And the Marshal had  _ known _ ?

She had been angry with him before, but now—this was... Her eyes lit up fiercely, her body shaking in her effort to control her own reaction.

Pentecost met her glare calmly. "I know Hannibal better than I would like to. Most things are a game to him. Money, power. Lives. The Bone Slum was his arena. The coordinates are the prize."

Mako gritted her teeth. She had never felt this way towards her sensei before. Never this kind of seething anger. How could he? How _ could  _ he?

"So that is all we are to you? Pawns in games?" she snapped, and her face and body immediately flushed with anxiety for speaking to him like that. But now that she had started, she couldn't hold it back anymore. "How is that different from Hannibal Chau!? How are we different? Are our bodies, our lives just a game to you too!?" She slammed her hands down on the desk, tears from anger jumping into her eyes.

He didn't reply for a long time, and Mako simply shook in rage, unable to walk away, unable to say anything else. Moment after moment stretched on until she felt like she was going to implode.

"No, Mako," Pentecost finally answered, his voice grave and unyielding. "This is anything but a game to me."

He tapped on the screen, and a bio-authentication display lit up. Pentecost pressed his hand to it. "Grant access to Year Zero files to Ranger Mako Mori, authorization Pentecost-Alpha, 10-8-20-13." The display flashed briefly.

Pentecost met Mako's eyes. "Read them when you have the time."

Mako clenched her fists and then let out a long sigh. Right now, she didn't have any answers yet. But she knew more than anything when sensei was sincere, because he so rarely showed it. He was doing so now.

"Okay," she said, having calmed down somewhat. And now that she could think more clearly, she realized there was one more thing bothered her—something the Marshal had said before.

"Marshal. If as you say... Raleigh's location is the prize. Then why would Hannibal Chau give him up?"

Pentecost glanced at her, and then gestured towards the mission map. "Because the Bone Slum is a trap—and traps are meant to catch something. Hannibal's target is worth more to him than Mr. Becket."

Mako narrowed her eyes. She could only think of one person Hannibal would risk that much for. "...Chuck," she mumbled. But, that couldn't be right—Chuck wasn't supposed to go on the mission. Of course he would be at risk of capture if they had intended to send him out into the field. It didn't make sense.

"Plans within plans, Miss Mori," Pentecost said, reading her expression. "I did not expect Chuck to blatantly disobey my orders—I did not expect a Kaiju agent amongst my very own Rangers to convince him to do so."

At this, his eyes lit up, and briefly Mako saw the rage simmering behind them, the tightly-controlled anger at this betrayal. The Marshal clenched his fist.

Mako's eyes grew large, and she had a strange, sinking feeling. "Ranger Bruce Gage,” she started, but Pentecost shook his head. “...both of them?" she stammered. He nodded grimly. Her mind raced at the implications. Everything sensei was telling her now, it was almost too much to understand. "But that means—the Shatterdome—"

"—may be compromised," Pentecost finished her sentence. He closed his eyes for a second, as if he had to finally accept the truth himself. "It is."

* * *

Raleigh had made the right choice. Once he had done so, everything had become so simple. He wondered why he hadn't chosen this before, as it would have made things much easier for him.

To submit to Hannibal Chau and pledge him loyalty—to beg for a spot at his feet, to be allowed to call him Master—something like that would have horrified him before, but he felt so light and free now, it was obviously the right path for him. There was no more struggling now. And his Master had rewarded him by setting him free, taking him out of the hell that was the dungeon, and bringing him to this room full of softness and light and nice smells, dressing him in a beautiful red leather harness, letting him eat and drink what he wanted, giving him a long luxurious bath that made his skin melt. Hannibal's own people had attended to  _ him, _ to Raleigh, taking care of  _ him. _

He was happy here.

He was really happy here.

Raleigh clutched the pillow on the big soft bed and buried his face in it. He was happy here, he repeated to himself. He was happy—

He was startled by noise outside, yelling, followed by screams and thuds. Raleigh jumped up, panicked, and rolled off the bed, crawling under it. They weren't going to take him again! He was fine and safe here. Everything was okay here.

From underneath the bed, Raleigh could just barely see the door of the room, seconds before it flew open.

Three people ran inside, dressed in black, masks covering everything but their eyes; two broader male figures and one female.

The female figure stepped forward, pulling off her mask. "Raleigh Becket? My name is Tamsin Sevier. I am with the PPDC and have been sent here to rescue you."

Raleigh could feel his heart thumping in his chest, so loud that he figured they must be able to hear him. But he didn't dare move. Rescue him? He didn't need rescuing anymore, right? Hannibal would take care of him. He was happy now.

Tamsin walked up to the bed, and Raleigh tried to stay as still as possible, breathing as shallow as he could.

"Raleigh, we can take you back to Yancy, and Chuck is with us too. It's okay," Tamsin went on. She paused. Of the other two, one went into the bathroom, and one stayed near the door.

Tamsin sat down on one knee and reached out a hand under the bed. "You can trust me, Raleigh. I'm not here to hurt you. We're going to take you back home."

No—he was happy here, Raleigh thought. He was. It was safe here. He was happy here, he really was—he just had to keep thinking that—if he kept thinking that and kept believing that then it would be okay—it would be okay—he would be happy and safe—right?

Right?

Tamsin laid down flat on the floor now, and met Raleigh’s eyes in the dark. She stretched out her arm towards him. “You’ll be safe with us, Raleigh. We’ll take you back to your family.”

Family?

There was a sharp pang in his chest and a sudden, frightening sense of emptiness and darkness, as if the floor under the bed was vanishing and pulling him down.

Raleigh took Tamsin's outstretched hand with a desperate grip.

* * *

Yancy was starting to lose it. He'd gotten Raleigh, but now he was stuck, the system simply throwing him in circles around various encrypted routes and files, none of which led to the door controls. "Goddammit!" he cursed, slamming his fist on the door.

Sasha glanced at him. "No good?"

"Fuck," Yancy rasped. "I can't—I can't get through." He pulled a sweaty hand over his face. "Chuck... shit..."

"You might not have to," Sasha said.

Yancy's brow wrinkled in confusion and he stood up, wincing as his knees and legs hurt from squatting on the floor that long. "What do you mean?" He hesitated, then dared a look at the window.

The initial shock of what he saw knocked the breath out of him—Chuck, face bloody, slammed up against the window as Hannibal was mercilessly fucking into the boy, every thrust slamming Chuck against the glass, smearing more blood over the surface—

But then he saw what Sasha was talking about.

Hannibal was so caught up in his power trip that he hadn't noticed the small blade in Chuck's left hand; his own switchblade. Yancy had no clue how or when Chuck had swiped it.

But Chuck made eye contact with them, giving Yancy a weak smile, before closing his eyes.

Chuck took a deep breath, bracing himself. Focusing on Jazmine's voice, repeating her instructions in his head.

Then Jazmine's voice and his own intention fell together as one.

_ NOW. _

With all the strength he could muster, Chuck spun around and stuck the blade deep inside Hannibal's left hand where it was clasped on his hip.

Hannibal screamed, staggering backwards, completely caught off guard. Blood gushed from his wound all over his hand and arm. Chuck winced as he felt Hannibal slip out of him and then, years and years of pent-up hatred moved his body faster than he could even think anymore—he tossed the blade from his left hand to his right and sliced forward.

Hannibal screamed again as jets of blood spurted from his groin and fell to his knees, doubling over in pain.

"You little—!!" he gritted out, just barely, before Chuck throttled him again, sending Hannibal flying backwards.

Chuck saw nothing but red. He climbed on top of Hannibal, both his hands gripping the blade, and he brought it down onto the spasming body beneath him over and over, crying, screaming words that barely made sense. Hannibal’s arms flailed trying to push Chuck off, but Chuck just snarled, dodging them. Then, with one chilling scream that seemed to compress all the pain and anger he felt into his vocal cords, he plunged the knife deep into Hannibal’s neck.

Blood spurted up from Hannibal's mouth, his eyes rolling, and he gargled and twitched his limbs even as the life bled out of him.

The door opened.

Two pairs of hands grabbed Chuck's arms and pulled him off Hannibal's corpse, still screaming, hands squeezing his wrists to let go of the blade. He flailed and thrashed like a wild animal, trying to claw and bite at the things that were restraining him. Then, something hard hit him on the back of his head, and the lights went out.

An ocean away, Jazmine woke up.

She sat up straight in an instant, heart hammering in her chest, and she looked at her hands, touched her own face. Seconds ago she was bathing in blood, filled with rage—everything Chuck had felt, she had felt.

It had been awful. She had only meant him to fight back, not—not do something like that.

The thick crimson of blood spread inside her mind, through her body. But it didn't hurt her. She didn't  _ feel _ hurt, not like before. She felt different. Not hurt, but...  _ full. _ As if some part of her felt contented,  _ satisfied. _ No longer hungry.

Jazmine clutched her bed sheets. What was happening to her? What had she done?

* * *

Sasha put the shotgun back on her belt after knocking Chuck out with the butt of it, and looked around. The floor was splattered with Hannibal’s blood and Chuck was covered in it. Now, unconscious, he looked all the more haunting. Too thin, too young, bruised up, naked. Sasha frowned and took off her coat, then sat down on a knee and draped her coat to cover Chuck. She didn’t fail to notice Yancy was staring daggers at her the whole time.

Chuck groaned and shifted and Sasha was more than ready to hold him down if necessary. His eyes flew wide open and he turned to look up at Sasha, then saw Yancy. And recoiled.

Almost instinctively Chuck clung to the oversized coat as he jumped up and backed away several feet, wrapping it around himself. His eyes narrowed. “Stay the fuck away from me,” he hissed. He staggered a few more steps back and a few more, until he got closer to the wall at the other side of the room. Then at last Chuck broke eye-contact and moved to sit down, back to the wall, burrowing into Sasha’s coat. Already stained in Aleksis’ blood, now it also had Hannibal’s on it. Chuck sensed his sticky skin cling to the coat’s lining. It didn’t matter. All Chuck felt was a constant, silent, deadly rage. His body was too exhausted to express it, his mind couldn’t find the words. So he just sat there, staring at Hannibal’s corpse, as the vortex of hatred swirled inside him, his eyes burning.

"Let him be for now," Sasha said. Yancy didn't know what else to do to help Chuck, and Chuck obviously didn't want him around—so he followed Sasha's advice.

"I will keep watch," she continued. Then she looked at the corner of the room where Hannibal had emerged from. "Control room over there, yes? Take unit, secure room. Find way out. And find Herc."

It was a tall order, but Sasha had a point. They still had to get out of here, even if Hannibal was dead now. They weren't out of the woods yet. Yancy went back to the doorway to pick up his tablet, and as he had suspected, all routes indicated the control room was at the other side of the door.

The soldiers went in first, expecting resistance, but the door slid open without trouble, revealing a room with servers stacked on one side and several monitors and haptic interfaces on the other. Sophisticated stuff, Yancy saw. No doubt Hannibal had help from the Kaiju in setting this up.

Still, it was strange that there were no further security measures at this point—had Hannibal really not expected them to get this far? What had he been planning to do with Chuck after—well, after doing whatever shit he had been in the middle of doing when Chuck had spun around and killed him.

Yancy swallowed hard and tried to not think too much about the scene he'd just seen—Hannibal bathing in blood, countless stab wounds, dick cut off, and Chuck screaming wildly on top of him.

Hannibal definitely hadn't planned on that.

* * *

At the other side of the basement, the Wei triplets and the dozen left of their unit had made a journey initially similar to that of Sasha's team. Through meandering corridors they had scoured through room after disturbing room, finding nothing. Until, finally, they too came upon a brightly lit room. There was a hulking shape of a man standing in the middle of the room. He was wearing black army boots, green slacks, and a brown jacket that barely fit.

The three of them could easily communicate without using words, and the PPDC soldiers were adept in using hand signals. They entered the room as quietly as they could, the door not closing behind them.

The figure did not move.

Jin signaled for the soldiers to keep their guns ready, but not fire lethal shots; limbs only.

Nods and looks were exchanged between them and they moved into a synchronous formation, blades at the ready.

"Turn around slowly," Cheung said.

The man did.

"Holy shit," Hu mumbled.

"It's him. It's Hercules Hansen," Jin chimed in.

They had only seen some photos of Hercules—'Herc'—in the PPDC's mission files. The man before them did bear some resemblance to those, mostly in facial structure—but everything else in the photos and the files was now very, very inaccurate.

For starters, Herc was at least one foot taller than the 6' described, definitely broader, and way more muscled. His shoulders were almost as wide as the triplets were tall. He had the kind of body that would make the Rock reconsider wrestling the man. But other than his freakish—almost superhuman—measurements, what made him stand out was, well, his eyes glowed bright blue, his skin was tinted nearly grey, and his teeth looked more like fangs than anything else.

They had only read about this kind of thing existing. They'd only seen some bodies return, like Sergio's, torn apart, experimented upon, traces of non-human DNA. But to see the result of the Kaiju's messing with humans in the flesh like this was something else. Not even in the same ballpark.

"Haaaa," Herc rasped, "Youuu thhreeee."

His voice was barely human, low and gritty, churning out the noises with much effort. His body almost no longer capable of speech.

"Fuck," Hu said, bracing himself further, his brothers doing the same. "We got orders to capture him."

"Capthhuurrree?" Herc growled, "Haaaaa!" The roar reverberated through the room like a thunderstorm, making their bones shake with the volume of it. "Tryyyyy!"

Claws slid out from his fingers, and his eyes briefly flashed yellow. There was a sick rustle, the sound of fabric tearing, and then a long, barbed tail uncoiled from behind him.

"Jesus motherf—" Jin said, not able to finish his curse as Herc launched himself towards the group with a loud cry.

Herc's claws clashed immediately with the brothers' blades, Cheung's on the left, Hu's on the right, whilst Jin made a backwards roll to dodge a jab of Herc's tail. The PPDC soldiers around them had dashed backwards, guns still at the ready, but not firing.

"Orders?!" one of them called out.

" _ gorram— _ non-lethal suppressive fire! And don't fuckin' hit  _ us _ !" Jin yelled back, before dashing back forward, supplementing his brothers in their Thundercloud formation. Once they got a handle on that, even something as big as Herc would have a hard time—at least, he hoped so. They'd practiced with all kinds of situations—a tiny Mako, a giant Aleksis plus Sasha, or just all three of them. They'd never faced a  _ monster _ like Herc before.

With Herc actively attacking the three there was no way the soldiers could squeeze in shots that wouldn't harm the Weis—their only opportunity would be if there was enough distance and Herc was a clear target. And even then, they were supposed to  _ capture _ him. Cheung wondered if that was even going to be possible, but orders were orders, and outright killing him would be the absolute last option. The Marshal had been very, very clear about that.

The Thundercloud formation left the opponent no opening to attack, and the team no wasted space for defense. Every angle they were approached at was an angle covered by one of their blades—Chinese short swords, light and flexible. Back-to-back-to-back, high, mid and low, feet light, knees loose. It was all about speed, flexibility, anticipation. As Jin joined his brothers it felt like stepping into a dance only the three of them heard the music to, knew the steps to. They were close in each other's space, yet not touching, their bodies moving around each other.

They hadn't tested it on something like Herc, but it was already working—the giant was confused, every thrust of his claws parried, the slow swings of his tail easily dodged. It growled in frustration.

The Thundercloud formation was something they had developed with the help of Stacker and Tamsin, although the roots of it had been laid back when they were street fighting in Hong Kong. It was more than a little nostalgic to be back in Kowloon Bay, but they didn't miss getting the shit kicked out of them, gangsters demanding their pay and taking it from their bodies if they failed. They had learned fast, even at that young age. They'd always been in tune with each other, and that was to be expected; they were triplets. Triplets, everyone they'd grown up with knew, were lucky. Mystical. Blessed. Not that it had mattered, because their parents had loaned money from the wrong people to pay off a debt that was supposed to pay off another debt, and so on, and one day Jin, Cheung and Hu had come home from school to find their parents brutally murdered. They'd been scooped up by the Triad boss responsible and put to work. First in drug labs, then prostitution when they were old enough – still below a legal age of any sorts—and street fighting when they had gotten taller and built more muscle. They'd been taken care of the way one takes care of a small fleet of delivery trucks; kept in working condition to do what they were useful enough to do.

They became really, really good at fighting, too. If only because the more they won, the less they had to earn their money in another way, and all three of them preferred getting beaten up to being fucked against their will.

After one of their wins a short, white, American man in a lab coat and skinny black tie had wanted to see and examine them. Things had changed after that. They stopped fighting, but they were still tough, so they were put to work for Triad clients with more exclusive tastes—and they would have headed straight to the Bone Slum after that, had the PPDC not interfered. They owed Pentecost their freedom and the man had won their loyalty—so much that when he came to them for help years later, they had accepted.

And now, they were here. If Herc was an example of what happened to you if you stuck around the Bone Slum, the three of them were even more thankful for their rescue. Now, they had to find a way out of this situation,  _ and _ bring back the human-kaiju that Herc had been turned into. This was going to require some advanced tactics.

"[Plan?]" Jin said, switching to Cantonese. If Herc could still understand English, talking battle strategy wouldn't do them any favors. They were dancing around Herc at the moment, parrying his strikes, jumping back to stay out of range of his tail. They could keep it up, but it wouldn't get them anywhere.

"[Wear him down?]" Hu suggested, his blades clashing with another strike of Herc's claws.

"[I don't know, this guy looks like he has plenty of energy,]" Cheung chimed in, rolling sideways to dodge Herc's lunge. The giant growled in frustration at his targets continuing to evade him.

"[Agreed,]" Jin replied. "[I meant take-down plan, guys.]" Herc stepped back a little and Jin narrowed his eyes, reading the monster's movements as fast as he could. "[Scatter! He's gonna jump!]"

Herc took a small run-up and then launched himself towards the group, arms wide and roaring.

They dashed apart, each in a different direction, less than a second before Herc slammed down, making the ground tremor.

"[Fuck,]" Cheung gasped. They regroup as fast as they could whilst Herc was reorienting himself. "[We can't keep this up if he's gonna start jumping on us,]" he said.

"[Plan,]" Hu said. "[Thundercloud Delta?]" Herc was preparing another charge at them, scraping his feet.

"[Good idea,]" Jin replied. "[Targets?]"

"[Claws and tail,]" Cheung said. "[See if we can disarm him.]"

Herc's running footsteps made the ground shake again. The three brothers kept their eyes fixed on their opponent.

"[GO!]" Jin called out.

Two of them scattered again, Hu to the left and Cheung to the right, but Jin actually began to run  _ towards _ Herc—and at the last possible second, fell to his knees, sliding underneath the man and swung his blades to strike at the tail. It was a bold move and Jin was just barely able to dodge another swing of the tail as luminescent blue fluid sprung out of the wound.

Herc cried out and swung around. Now, the three of them repositioned themselves in a triangle—the delta pattern. Herc's rage was focused on Jin. That's exactly what the pattern was designed for; to take down a large enemy by creating multiple targets, provoking one after the other, getting their opponent angrier and more exhausted, whilst striking the targets on its body to take it down. It was a more aggressive approach than their Alpha pattern, which was more suited for multiple targets and basic offense and defense at the beginning of the fight. Despite their fighting appearing very instinctive, everything about their movements was strategic, tactical. This is the part they had learned in the PPDC. Pentecost trained in sword fighting and jiu jitsu whilst Tamsin was trained in assassination and ninjutsu; skills they had passed on to their protégées, the triplets and Mako. The Kaidonovskies had their own kind of specialty, in just about every ranged weapon you could think of, along with a merciless brawling style they had a nigh-unpronounceable Russian word for. Jin had nicknamed it  _ death fists _ which came pretty close to the practical display of it. When the Kaidonovskies banged their fists together in sync, shit was about to go down.

And speaking of death fists—Herc had a pair on him as well. Still focused on Jin, he began to run towards the triplet, and smoothly Hu and Cheung followed suit, closing in on Herc behind him, not too close, not too far away, waiting to see how he would react to their new tactics. Herc's tail was leaking fluid still. Jin braced himself, brandishing his blades at his sides, ready to parry. At the very last second however, Herc spun around with a low kick, his tail following suit.

"[Shit!!]" Hu exclaimed, the tail missing him by a hair's breadth; Cheung had been less caught off-guard and did a backwards flip to get out of range. Herc's move showed he'd been aware of the two brothers closing in on them. The three of them made eye-contact; this was going to be harder after all, if they couldn't outsmart him that easily.

"[Delta-five!]" Jin called out, and they reformed the triangle, this time staying at closer range, not giving Herc the opportunity to do another run-up or charge. Rather than staying static and bracing themselves they began to run around their target, faster and faster, and Herc's head swung back and forth trying to lock onto them. Then Cheung's blade sliced at his tail again and when he spun around in anger, Jin lunged forward, sinking his blade into Herc's hand. It stayed stuck and he left it, rolling to Herc's side and joining his brothers back in their formation.

Herc cried out, blood gushing from his hand, red this time. He sheathed the claws on his other hand trying to pull the dagger out and that was when Hu took another stab at Herc's tail, slicing deep this time. More blue fluid gushed out and then Herc let out another frightening roar, his body rippling all over.

"Raaaaaargghh!" Herc growled. "My masssteerss—I——I will kill you!!"

And to the shock of the triplets, Herc's body began to  _ change _ —his tailed twitched, coiled, uncoiled, and then promptly  _ fell off. _

"[Gross,]" Hu remarked, twisting his face at the still-twitching flesh as it sprayed out various liquids—blue, red, clear.

"[Stay focused,]" Cheung said, wrinkling his nose at the mess himself.

Losing his tail seemed to revitalize Herc, and he rolled his shoulders, ready to attack again.

"[Now what?]" Jin said, keeping his eyes fixed on Herc, as they were still carefully circling him.

Hu raised his hand and looked back at the PPDC soldiers who'd been standing near the door the whole time, mostly trying to stay out of physical range and attention of Herc. "You guys!" Hu called out, waving his hand towards Herc. "Concussive rounds, legs, NOW!"

Almost at the same time the six privates grabbed their side-arms and fired off loud blasts towards Herc's legs as the triplets momentarily stopped their spin to clear the line of fire. The concussive rounds hit with maximum force and little piercing power, and Herc staggered, the muscles and nerves in his legs momentarily not responding under the physical assault.

"[HOLD!]" Hu called out, hand in the air with open palm, and the squad ceased fire.

Herc wobbled back and forth and Jin took this opportunity to dash in close, pull his blade out of Herc's hand and jump backwards, sending fresh blood spraying out. The claws on the injured hand twitched and then retracted.

"Hercules Hansen," Cheung began, speaking loud and clear. "Surrender, now."

Herc grimaced as the damage of the concussive rounds brought him to his knees, clutching his bleeding hand. Then he cried out, not in rage but in pain this time, and both his hands flew to his head. "No!!!"

The triplets looked at each other. That cry had sounded significantly less monstrous than the previous ones.

Herc's shape seemed to shrink visibly. "Get 'm out of my head," he mumbled, "Out of my f'king—"

He tried to stand up and doubled over again, this time on hands and knees.

"[The fuck is happening?]" Hu said, glancing at his brothers.

Cheung shrugged.

"[Fucked up kaiju shit,]" Jin answered.

Herc threw up in multiple colors. Then he fell back and clutched his head again. "You," he said, pointing in the direction of Cheung, who was the only triplet in his field of vision. "They're—m' goddamn mind... you gotta... ugh!!"

 

Herc convulsed, rolling over to his side and curling up in a fetal position. "Fuck!!!"

"[Well, he's approaching human again,]" Cheung offered.

"[Yes, great,]" Jin replied sarcastically. "[Can we make sure he doesn't die from... whatever the fuck this is?]"

Herc whined in pain and convulsed again.

"Jesus," Hu mumbled, carefully approaching Herc, and Cheung did the same. "Can we, uh, help?"

"My spine," Herc croaked out, his hand waving towards his back.

Cheung glanced at Hu, who nodded, and Cheung stepped closer to Herc. "I'm gonna slice open your clothes," Cheung said carefully. "Don't stab me, thanks."

"Ngh," Herc replied, visibly in pain, babbling to himself. "Not gonn' listen... y'fuckers stay out of m'head—"

Cheung's blade cut through the back of Herc's jacket. He let out a low whistle when he saw what was underneath.

Herc's white shirt was drenched in sweat and his spine was, well,  _ spiked _ in a way. And  _ moving. _

"[Gross,]" Hu remarked again.

"[Not helping,]" Cheung said. He pulled a face and then carefully sliced open Herc's shirt from collar to bottom.

"What the fuck..." Jin said, finally daring to approach Herc as well.

"Get it out, f'king get that thing out," Herc sobbed. "Not much... time..."

He convulsed again and the  _ thing _ that was his spine, or on his spine, moved and pulsed under his skin, shifting in hues of blue and purple, small luminescent dots shooting up and down the length of it.

"We can't just... cut the thing out, can we?" Hu ventured. He was really out of his depth here. They all were. They needed Dr. Gottlieb for this shit. Who was still better with math than with people, but at least he knew how to handle a scalpel.

"Shutupshutupshutup," Herc whined. "Fuckers, fuckin' kaiju—" He sucked in his breath and managed to turn around long enough to make eye-contact with Cheung. "Just fuckin' stab it, whatever, I don't fuckin' care, just  _ get the fuck on with it. _ "

Cheung held his blade up and glanced at his brothers, who nodded. "[Fuck, here goes nothing,]" Cheung said, and brought the blade down into the base of Herc's spine where the moving, purplish thing looked the thickest.

"GAAAAAAAAHHH!" Herc cried out. "Fuck! Yes, that's the spo—uughhh!"

They jumped back as Herc flailed around them.

"How d'ya like tha——hahaha, aaahhhhh, fuck, that hurts, jesus—" Herc rambled on, and then his eyes rolled back into his head and his body went entirely still.

"Uh," Hu began. "Did we kill him?"

Jin rolled his eyes. "Check."

Cheung pressed his fingertips to Herc's throat and counted. "Still got a pulse, it's fast, but steady," he said.

Hu let out a long sigh. "Right."

They glanced back at the PPDC soldiers. "Any volunteers for carrying him?"

* * *

Yancy was sifting through the information at the security console, visibly frustrated. "It's all garbage data," he muttered. "Real controls are only for this room." He typed in another command, and a door at the other side of the room slid open. "There!"

The soldiers he'd brought into the room positioned themselves at the door, but quickly relaxed. "Sir," one of them began, "it's the rest of Horizon. And they've got Hercules Hansen."

Yancy froze for a second. "Ah, uh, that's good," he said. It  _ was _ good. Except for the part where, Herc might want to kill him for utterly corrupting his son.

"He doesn't look conscious, sir," the soldier went on.

 

Yancy relaxed. At least that delayed the confrontation a little. He turned towards another one of the privates. "You. Kim, right? Go report to Sasha. She'll want to see this."

Jin Wei walked into the console room, and grinned when he saw Yancy, walking up to him and clapping him on the shoulder. "Becket! I see the rest of you made it this far. Did you find your brother?"

Yancy nodded. "We retrieved the coordinates from the server," he said. "LOCCENT took care of the rest."

"Good," Jin said. "I'm going on ahead to talk to Sasha. Cheung and Hu have secured Herc. You're not gonna believe... well, you'll see." Jin's eyes narrowed. "How is Chuck?"

Yancy frowned. "He's... alive," he ventured. "Doesn't wanna talk to anyone."

"Hm," Jin remarked. He folded his arms. "Since you're all up in the computer here, do you have us a way out?"

"Not yet," Yancy replied, focusing on the screens again. "Hannibal must've wiped most of the data before emptying the basement. We have the map data from... Scott Hansen's interrogation, but I am now assuming those are inaccurate."

"I thought as much," Jin said, nodding in agreement. "Keep at it."

"Yeah," Yancy agreed, and went back to the console.

* * *

Jin walked into the other brightly lit room; briefly noticing it looked exactly like the one they had encountered Herc in, before stopping in his tracks when his eyes focused on the mess near the door. Sasha was slightly blocking the view, but there was definitely a corpse, of which the description fit Hannibal Chau. There was a lot of blood around him. There was blood on the window towards the hallway. There was a trail of blood from the window to the corpse. There were bloody handprints and footprints around it.

"Jesus," Jin mumbled, and walked up to Sasha, giving her a salute.

"At ease, Ranger," Sasha said, and Jin breathed a sigh of relief. At this point he didn't feel like engaging in much more protocol.

"So..." Jin said, "... I suppose Hannibal Chau is dead?"

"Very," Sasha said with a grin. "Was good kill. Bit messy. But very dead."

Jin noticed the lack of blood splatter anywhere on her, and the lack of her coat. "Who...?"

Sasha nodded towards the corner of the room, where Chuck was bundled up in her coat, still glaring at anyone who attempted to look his way. His eyes briefly met Jin’s and then looked away.

Jin let out a low whistle. "The kid finally snapped or something?"

Sasha's expression turned grim. "Could say that. It was... not pretty. Not before either."

Jin folded his arms. "No kidding." He frowned. "What do you mean, before?"

Sasha rubbed her temple with one hand. "Chuck was locked inside alone. Think Hannibal used trigger phrase. Chuck was... away. Just his body. What Hannibal did... was bad."

Remembering it made her expression turn dark, Jin saw. There weren't a lot of things that unsettled Sasha. And seeing Sasha unsettled made  _ him _ feel unsettled, too.

"Shit," he mumbled. "And then he flipped around and killed Hannibal?"

"Yes," Sasha said. She glanced at Chuck in the corner again. "Now he sits there not talking."

"Hmmm," Jin mumbled.

"And you?" Sasha said.

Jin took in a deep breath. "Well... we have Hercules Hansen," he said.

Sasha beamed at him. "Good!"

"...But he's not quite himself," Jin finished. "You'll see. He's secure for now, at least."

Sasha nodded. "OK. I send pulse to LOCCENT with update."

"Yancy is working to find us a way out of here," Jin added.

"Good," Sasha replied. She looked at Chuck again with an upward nod. "Maybe you try talking?"

"I'll give it a shot," Jin said. "He has to get up eventually."

* * *

Chuck sat, looked, and breathed. Everything was still. Perfectly, wonderfully quiet. He could feel every hair on his skin move against the fabric, felt how many of them tugged at the dried blood around them. He felt every breath, how he took the air into his body, how it filled up his lungs and went into his blood and how then the air went out again; how his chest rose and fell. He heard every noise sharp, crystal-clear, no background white noise, nothing muffled. The taste in his mouth was metallic, rusty. And so many things caught his scent; the blood and sweat on his own skin, the blood in the room, his PPDC armor with traces of dust and gunpowder, the hint of bleach that still hung in the corner from when this brightly-lit room was last cleaned.

He had known a measure of this kind of stillness whenever he had submitted to Yancy as a pet. The world would come to a halt and everything narrowed down to a perfect focus.

But this time, he hadn't submitted to anyone. Nobody had made him do anything. He'd broken free. He'd created this silence himself.

It was quiet in his mind, but not empty. He wasn't afraid, or confused. But he was angry. He was incredibly angry. The razor sharp focus he felt came from that anger. As if every cell in his body was suddenly instilled with the purpose to scream, and he controlled it. His body felt like the blade he had held in his hand not too long ago. But it was also new; he could control it now, just sitting here by himself; only when Yancy had approached him, the rage had surged up in his blood, almost blotting out everything again. So here he sat, as far away from everyone as possible.

He saw and heard Jin approach him. That meant the other half of the unit had made it through the dungeon.

"Chuck," Jin began. "How are you?"

Jin hadn't failed to notice Hannibal's corpse, which was far from a pretty sight. He hadn't failed to notice how almost every patch of skin Chuck was showing was tinted dark-red. It made Chuck's eyes lit up even a paler, colder green.

Chuck looked up and met Jin's gaze squarely. Yes. This one, he wanted to speak to. Not Yancy. Not the man under the illusion he still owned Chuck and could lay claim to that whenever he wanted, even if he had said to not do that.

Jin, however, knew. Chuck recognized it now. He opened his mouth to reply.

"I’m  _ alive. _ "

Jin frowned, taking in Chuck's gaze, Chuck's body language. Chuck's eyes, which most of the time, had looked scared, confused, worried. Now they looked like they were teetering on the edge of rage, quietly, like a predatory animal ready to strike.

Jin did know that look. He'd shared it with his brothers, once.

He sat down next to Chuck. "It's a good one," he said. "Your first kill."

Against the focus of his silent stillness, Chuck's hand twitched. "What?"

The world began to shift again.

"It does change you," Jin went on. "First you were a boy. Then you were a dog. Then you were a pet." He looked at Chuck. "Now you are one of us."

"Huh?" Chuck mumbled, and the stillness broke.

He was losing time. He couldn't breathe. His mouth gasped for air and there wasn't any. His vision came and went as if he was flipping channels.

"Easy," Jin said from far away.

His stomach churned and Chuck stumbled to his feet. “I, uh…”

He doubled over and threw up.

Jin’s hand was reassuringly on his back and a flask of water appeared in his vision. Chuck gratefully took it and emptied the whole thing as fast as he could.

He hadn’t realized how thirsty he’d been. The cool water felt good, refreshing.

Jin took the empty bottle from Chuck. “Think you can walk?”

Chuck dared a few steps forward, his legs actually obeying him and his stomach hopefully having settled. “Yeah.”

Sasha was coming towards them. "Is he OK?" she asked Jin. Their voices were still kind of far away.

Chuck wanted that stillness he'd felt minutes ago to come back.

"He's in shock," Jin replied.

_ Oh, is that what this is, _ Chuck thought.

Sasha gave him a once-over. Then she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Yes," she agreed. "I can see." Then she unfolded her arms and reached out towards Chuck. "Good kill, Ranger. Bit extreme. But Hannibal very dead, so good."

Chuck slapped Sasha's hand away before it could land on him. "Don't fucking  _ touch _ me," he hissed, and then shook his head, caught off-guard by his own fierce response.

Sasha narrowed her eyes. "I transfer him to you three," Sasha said.

"I was going to suggest that," Jin agreed. "We'll look after him."

Sasha seemed to be satisfied with that answer. "Good."

Jin had spotted the bundle of clothes in the middle of the room and correctly assumed they were Chuck’s. Nobody else was walking around undressed after all.

 

“Chuck, put your gear back on,” Jin said. “We’re getting out of here soon.”

Chuck felt a wave of relief and nearly tripped over himself to follow Jin’s order. He shrugged off Sasha’s coat and went about putting his clothes back on, albeit it clumsy and he was still covered in blood. But once they were back on, he felt better. Warmer, at least. He glanced at Sasha’s coat where he left it, and then at her, and shrugged. She could come pick it up herself.

"Follow me, Chuck," Jin said, and walked towards the console room. Chuck went along gladly. He wanted to get out of the vicinity of Hannibal Chau's corpse as soon as possible.

But just before the doorway, Jin stopped and turned around. "Chuck—there's something I have to tell you," he began.

Chuck still felt pretty out of it, but having clothes on and moving around seemed to help a little. "Yeah?" he mumbled.

"It's... about your father," Jin went on.

"What about him?" Chuck said, and then somewhere in the back of his mind a tiny light flickered on. "You... found him? Here?"

Jin nodded, scratching his head. "Yeah, but... he's not in good shape. We have him... secured." He leaned forward, making eye contact with Chuck intently. "I need you to control yourself, Ranger," he said, his tone more strict. "You might feel upset or angry. You need to steer clear of your father until we know it is safe."

Chuck frowned. "The hell does that mean," he replied. "Why is he dangerous?" Then some more lights in his memory flickered on—after all, the last time he'd seen his old man, he'd been in Hannibal's service. "Oh," Chuck mumbled.

Jin saw the realization dawn on Chuck's face. "Yeah," he said. "Your father was working with Hannibal. We had to confront him."

"I see," Chuck mumbled.

"And, he doesn't quite... look like himself, either," Jin said tactfully.

"Okay," Chuck replied, not sure what Jin meant.

"Are you ready, then?" Jin inquired, raising an eyebrow and taking note of Chuck's body language. He looked settled enough, although he'd lashed out at Sasha. Jin was glad Chuck didn't have the same reaction to him, and he had a suspicion as to why. After all, Sasha and Yancy had been involved in Chuck's training, but Jin and his brothers hadn't. They'd worked out with the boy when he had to put on some muscle, but that was all. And they'd picked on him a little, but—that was a different thing. For later, not now.

"Yeah," Chuck replied.

"Then let's go," Jin said, and let him through the console room. Chuck glared at Yancy, and thankfully Yancy did his best to ignore Chuck, giving him only a cursory, worried glance in passing.

* * *

Mako's face brightened as the pulse from the Horizon unit came in. "Horizon unit reports in," she said. "Mission accomplished."

The Marshal made eye contact with her, and nodded solemnly. "Contact Coyote Tango," he said. "It's time."

"Yes, sir," Mako said, and hailed Tamsin's team from the console.

"Coyote Tango, this is LOCCENT. Report."

A few seconds went by until Tamsin's voice came back over the communications channel. "LOCCENT, this is Coyote Tango. Extraction successful. Returning to mission base."

The Marshal sighed, and leaned into the microphone. He closed his eyes for a second. "Tamsin. Initiate Pitfall protocol. Confirm."

There was a minute of silence.

"Pitfall protocol initiation confirmed," Tamsin replied. "Coyote Tango out."

Mako glanced at the Marshal, her expression worried. She knew at least what the protocol was; she had expected it when sensei had revealed that the Shatterdome was compromised. But still —

"Are you sure?" Mako hesitated. She rarely doubted sensei's commands, but in this case...

"I need you to get ready, Mako," he replied. Once more he accessed the biometric panel on the console table.

Mako nodded. "Yes, sir." She took her hands off the console, and reached under the table, coming up with a 9mm handgun. She put on a bulletproof vest, securing it around her torso, and put the handgun in the holster that came with the vest.

"Ready," she said. When she looked up she nearly gasped for breath—sensei had taken off his dress coat and shirt, leaving only his black undershirt, and was in the middle of securing his own swords at his side using an  _ uwa-obi  _ sash.

_ She hadn't seen him like that in a long time. It reminded her of the very first day they had met, when he had brandished those swords, along with more traditional warrior clothing. To her, he had looked like a samurai out of her storybooks, come to life; even more so because she had never seen a person with a skin so dark, and she had thought him some kind of benevolent spirit or guardian who was there to rescue her. _

Of course, she had been 11 at the time, so her imagination was more than a little wild.

Right now, sensei did not look like a spirit—instead Mako was surprised by how attractive he looked out of his PPDC dress uniform. He had kept himself in perfect shape. Mako didn't doubt that. Sensei was a relentless perfectionist in everything he did, and his martial art most of all.

"Biometric authorization needed for Pitfall protocol," the console piped up.

Pentecost glanced at Mako, and then, pressed his hand on the biometric panel.

"Authorization Pentecost-Alpha-1 biometric print confirmed," the console replied. "Commencing Pitfall protocol."

The console screens in LOCCENT flared up a bright red, and an alarm began to sound in steady, loud ringing tones, further accompanied by the computer voice that Mako had come to know as LOCCENT's own.

"SELF-DESTRUCT INITIATED. PLEASE EVACUATE. T MINUS TWENTY-NINE MINUTES, 31 SECONDS—"

This was it. Mako couldn't believe it. To think that sensei would actually destroy everything he had built up here—just to not risk it falling into the hands of the Kaiju.

"Mako. Let's go. Stay close to me," sensei said, and unlocked the LOCCENT main elevator.

* * *

"Found it!" Yancy exclaimed. "I've got us a way out." He held his tablet in front of the console, and a map appeared on the smaller screen. "Okay. Let's go." He glanced at one of the PPDC soldiers and pointed at them. "You, go get Sasha. We need to gather in the other room with the Weis."

Sasha, in the meantime, was searching Hannibal's body, not too enthusiastically. Maybe she should have left this task to one of the privates, but a part of her also felt reassured knowing he was very very dead, up close. Unfortunately, there was nothing else of use on him—no cards, no ID, not even a phone. She almost contemplated taking his shoes as a battle trophy.

Finally she sat up, letting her gaze wander up and down the corpse, arms crossed.

"[May Aleksis find you in Hell, you son of a bitch,]" she said, and then gave the body a last satisfying kick.

A PPDC soldier was coming up behind her. "Ranger Becket has found a way out of here," he said.

"Good," Sasha replied. "Have seen enough of this shithole."

* * *

The rain clattered down on the hull of the CH-53 helicopter. Raleigh was strapped solidly in one of the seats, drops of sweat slowly making their way down his face, turning his hair damp. He was wearing clothes, he thought. A lot of them. Tamsin and the two men who had introduced themselves as Vic and Gunnar had gotten him dressed in complicated clothes—many layers, all of which warm. Raleigh wasn't used to this. His skin felt weird and scratchy being covered.

Raleigh felt as if he was slowly waking up. How long had it been? Weeks, months? He was starting to recall how it all started—going to Paris. A party. Alcohol and drugs—the night was a bit of a blur—and then waking up in a bad place. And things had only gotten worse from there. He didn't  _ want _ to remember, but images and sensations kept coming back to him, like a dark tide rising up from the rifts in his mind. He was sweating, itching, shivering. His head hurt. He was trying to piece things together, but couldn't, the tide receding just as he thought he could grab onto something.

He felt Tamsin's gaze on him and looked up.

"How are you feeling, Raleigh?" she said.

"I'm..." Raleigh tried to find words for a kind of answer that made sense to him. "...alive."

Tamsin frowned for a second, then her features straightened out. "True."

The radio in the cockpit beeped up.

"Coyote Tango, this is LOCCENT. Report."

Tamsin nodded. "Stay with us, Raleigh," she said, and got up from her seat.

Raleigh wasn't sure what else he was supposed to do, anyway.

Tamsin sat down next to Vic and put on the headset. "LOCCENT, this is Coyote Tango. Extraction successful. Returning to mission base."

There was a slight pause, and then Stacker's voice came back. "Tamsin. Initiate Pitfall protocol. Confirm."

Tamsin's eyes went wide. Shit.  _ Shit. _ It's not like she hadn't expected this. They were dealing with the Kaiju. Fucking anything was possible.

"Fuck," she hissed, exchanging a glance with Vic Tunari. Not him, she thought. She trusted the Tunari brothers with her life. There weren't a lot of people she could say that of.

Tamsin took a deep breath.

"Pitfall protocol initiation confirmed," Tamsin replied. "Coyote Tango out."

She let out a sigh and closed her eyes for a second. "You heard the man," she said to Vic.

"Affirmative," Vic said. "Amending course to Lion's Den extraction point."

Tamsin went back to the hold. Raleigh was still looking out of it. That wasn't a surprise. Chuck had been in somewhat better shape when they had rescued him from the Bone Slum, in the sense that it had been easier to control him, easier to predict what he was going to say and do. Yancy's training had been thorough. Raleigh though; they had no idea what had been said and done to him by Hannibal Chau. Had he even been bonded to a trainer? Or had he just been used until he broke? Tamsin narrowed her eyes. It would have to wait. For now, they had to get out of Hong Kong.

* * *

Mako followed Pentecost through the Shatterdome's network of maintenance corridors, stairs and walkways, following routes that only a few people knew of. If they were lucky, they would meet no resistance before arriving at the dock. The speed at which they were moving forward made her side ache, but she wasn't going to complain about it.

In the distance, she could hear the LOCCENT alarm resounding, counting down. She knew the Pitfall protocol; she had helped design it, together with sensei and Tamsin, after she had returned to the PPDC. The Shatterdome had become her new home, and now, she was going to help destroy it.

Sensei stopped in his tracks and Mako almost ran into him, having gone too much on autopilot, being too lost in her thoughts.  _ Focus, _ she chided herself.

The walkway they had been on was collapsed further ahead, the cables clearly cut through. "Stay alert, Mako," sensei said. He looked around, and his gaze landed on a lower platform. "We'll have to take an alternative route."

For a second or two he gauged his distance, and then without further hesitation, jumped down almost 10 feet, landing solidly on both feet, letting the impact reverberate through his body. Mako looked down with a bit more anxiety. Sensei looked up.

"You can do this, Mako," he said. "Remember your training."

Mako nodded and closed her eyes for a moment of focus, and then stepped back a little. Then, she ran up to the edge and did a forward rolling jump, spinning forward through the air, and landed with another forward roll, light on her feet.

A sharp jolt of pain shot through her torso, and she grabbed her side.

"Well done," sensei said. "Follow me."

But their new path led somewhere else, Mako noticed, bringing them closer towards the center. Sensei knew, too. Someone was purposefully leading them away from the escape path, leaving closed doors, cut cables and blown-off hooks in their path.

"Get ready, Mako," sensei eventually said.

"Yes," Mako replied.

He opened the door to a larger hall. Mako recognized it as one of the lower generator rooms; large generators were buzzing at the sides of the room, power cables running over the ceilings. And in the middle, three figures were waiting for them.

"About time you showed up,  _ Marshal, _ " the man Pentecost recognized as Newton Geiszler said. The kaiju scientist who had deserted the PPDC.

Pentecost didn't spare any sympathy for traitors.

"Mr. Geiszler," he replied acidly.

Mako knew the two men who flanked him. She'd remembered Sasha's report from the Bone Slum. A report now proved inaccurate.

"The Gage twins," she breathed.

Bruce grinned. "Happy to see us, then?"

Trevin's eyes lit up a faint yellow.

Mako's eyes narrowed. She too did not take up kindly with traitors. "I take it you are not killed in action, then," she replied coldly.

Trevin laughed. "I feel pretty alive. How 'bout you, Bruce?"

Bruce's eyes flashed as well, his teeth sliding into fangs, claws extending from his fingertips. "Aliiiive and kickin'," he said, his voice slurring slightly from his transformation.

Pentecost gritted his teeth. "I see you've continued your experiments," he said. "Using my Rangers for this—you will not get away with it this time, Mr. Geiszler."

Newt laughed. "That's  _ Dr.  _ Geiszler, Marshal."

"Titles will not matter when you are dead," Pentecost said coldly. He widened his stance, hooked his thumb under the guard of his katana and clicked it out of its scabbard.

Mako followed his example, and deeply regretted not having her twin daggers on her—they were back in her quarters. She should've had them on her in LOCCENT... why hadn't she?

_ Because I spent the night in Yancy's quarters, _ Mako remembered. She silently admonished herself.  _ How foolish to get carried away like that— _

But now was not the time for that. They were outnumbered, although she considered that Pentecost's skill and experience may count for double, she herself was injured. She hoped that the kaiju did not know of it.

"All right you two—make it quick," Newt said. "No playing around!"

"Too bad," Bruce said, cracking his knuckles.

"Yeah, yeah," Trevin said, and then began to run towards Pentecost and Mako, claws out—

The two generators in the room exploded, and the space filled up with smoke, the lights going off, red emergency lights kicking in. Bruce howled and Newt cursed.

Mako only heard Pentecost's footsteps move forward, and she didn't need to be told not to call out to him. It would be foolish to reveal their position now that they had cover.

Mako dashed to the left side of the room, hugging the wall to climb behind one of the generators and stay out of the middle where their enemies had been standing. She paused at the doorway, gun at the ready, aiming towards the smoke.

She heard the unsheathing of sensei's katana, followed by a scream; then, the unmistakable sounds of weapons clashing. Mako held her breath. She could only wait until the fight was over. But if it wasn't sensei who would soon come towards her, then she would shoot them without a doubt.

Stacker Pentecost was not a man who was easily caught off guard. He had put the Pitfall protocol in place for exactly this situation. Because he knew his enemies. He knew that there was nothing the Kaiju would not do to stop him, and he also knew that Kaiju time and time again underestimated him. That had always been to his advantage.

He was sure Newton Geiszler thought he was  _ so _ clever to lead them to this room; when in fact, Stacker knew every square inch of the Shatterdome, every nook and cranny, every pathway. It had taken him no effort to deduct that they had been heading to Generator Room 2 and only a few seconds to reroute one of the Pitfall destruction commands to that room through his smartwatch. The timing of the explosion had been perfect.

He had not missed a single morning or night of sword practice; perhaps the only handicap he had at this time was his lack of recent practice on living targets. But 20 years of that did not disappear quickly.

He cut down Trevin first, who had been the closest, lunging towards them; Stacker had felt the blade go clean through him. Then his sword had clashed with Bruce's claws, and he had allowed the former Ranger to push him back a little—the smoke had started to clear around them, and it only took a second of Bruce to see his brother's remains for Stacker to have his opening. He lifted the blade up and then sliced right through most of Bruce's hand and planted the blade deep inside his abdomen.

That left only Geiszler—but he was nowhere to be seen or heard. Stacker kept his blade at the ready, closed his eyes and focused.

Mako yelled.

She hadn't seen Geiszler, hadn't heard him at all. He must have seemed like a shadow, moving through the room with near-stealth. She had her back towards the wall, but he had simply grabbed her from the side, one hand on her hip, the other one on her throat, claws extended, sharp tips pricking into her skin, drawing the slightest bit of blood.

"Why don't you call for your sweet sensei," Geiszler had hissed at her. Mako had.

And her sensei had stepped forward, katana unsheathed and bloodied.

"Let. her. go," Pentecost spoke, low and commanding.

His appearance and  _ that _ tone made Mako flush, despite the entire reality of the situation. She wasn't sure if she'd ever been attracted to him more than right now, and with that came the bitter realization that he would never feel the same way.

But she at least had no doubt he would fight for her. Mako did not panic or tremble. She was not afraid. She had simply yelled because it was the quickest way to let sensei know where Geiszler was. There was no doubt in her mind that he would save her. He had done so before against far greater odds.

"And do what?" Geiszler replied. " _ Apologize _ ? Maybe you'll rehire me?  _ That _ would be fun. Come back to the PPDC family, Newt. We forgive you, here's a hundred spankings and a time-out in the doggie cage. Woof!"

His claws slid up to cup Mako's jaw as he plucked the 9mm gun from her hand and pushed it into her side. Against her will, Mako flinched from pain.

"Oh?" Geiszler said, and pressed again, eliciting the same reaction from Mako. "This hurts, hm? That's good to know!" He grinned at Pentecost.

"But you're not a doggie are you, Mako-chan? You're a kitty." He scratched his nails over her jaw, under her chin, leaving red streaks behind, drops of blood welling up across their length. "Maybe you should beg your sensei, please save me, meow."

Mako tried her hardest to repress a shudder of repulsion as she felt Geiszler's tongue lick up her neck to her ear. Her eyes were still locked with sensei's. There was still no doubt in her mind. All she had to do was bear this humiliation—and it was nothing compared to her training. In this, at least, it seemed Geiszler had no idea what he was talking about. Despite all his expertise and knowledge of both the PPDC and the Kaiju, he was not a pet or a Trainer, and he didn't know the depth of it, the bonds that were made; how deeply one could be broken and how strong one could grow from it if given the proper guidance. All Geiszler knew was probably whatever depravity he had seen or taken part in at Hannibal Chau's side. It was not like the PPDC. Rangers were like master blades forged in the hottest fire by the best craftsmen. In comparison, the creatures the Bone Slum churned out were brittle, ill-balanced, flawed. There was a reason the Kaiju continued to have an interest in the pets the PPDC offered them, despite being enemies. A wild predator could not resist the sweetest meat being placed in front of it.

Sensei gave her a small, nearly imperceptible nod, and his eyes blinked twice in quick succession. That was all Mako needed to know.

Through the corridors behind them, the tinny voice of the LOCCENT computer filtered through.

"Self-destruct in progress... please evacuate. T minutes ten minutes, forty-five seconds..."

"We should wrap this up quickly," Geiszler said. "So here's the deal. You put your fancy samurai swords on the floor, walk out of this room in the direction of where you came from, and you let me have your pretty Japanese kitty. Whaddaya say?" His nails continued to draw light streaks of blood under Mako's chin.

Pentecost closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. "I am sorry, Mako," he said.

"Sensei..." Mako replied. "Please, don't leave me here!"

Pentecost, true to form, took a thick piece of cloth out of his pocket, and wiped the blood off his katana.

Geiszler laughed. "Ten minutes, old man, and you're bothering to clean your sword? There is such a thing as relying too much on protocol, man."

"A sword should be clean in its scabbard," Pentecost replied simply, and sheathed his sword, before untying his sash and placing both swords on the floor.

He met Mako's gaze again. "[Until we meet again, Miss Mori,]" he spoke in Japanese.

Tears welled up in Mako's eyes. "[Until then, sensei.]"

And with that, Pentecost turned around, and walked the other way. Geiszler kept Mako close to his side until finally he no longer saw Pentecost, and the door at the other side of the room had shut behind him with a loud metallic clang.

Geiszler chuckled. "Mako-chan, Mako-chan! Now it's just me and you! Didn't think the old man would just leave you like that—but the more you know, huh?" He flipped her around, tossed the 9mm to the side and pushed her up against the wall. "You think you can trust a man... you think he cares for you. But to him, you are just a piece of meat, Mako."

Geiszler leaned forward and licked at the blood on Mako's neck.

Mako gasped in response. "Dr. Geiszler..."

Geiszler smiled against her skin. "Please. Call me Newt."

His claws retracted, and he'd moved them down her sides, down her hips. "Mako... I've waited so long for this," he breathed. "It's okay. You're better off with me, Mako. I can take care of you. I'll make sure my masters will never hurt you."

Mako ran a hand up to Geiszler's face. "Newt..." Her cheeks flushed. "Y-you... you still look so strange."

Newt's gaze softened. "Of course, of course. You're not used to it yet. That's okay." His skin tone went back to a pinker shade, and the yellow of his eyes faded to their usual green.

Mako cast down her gaze and then looked up at him from under hooded eyes. "Newt, I..."

LOCCENT's voice interrupted her, echoing from the hallway. "Self-destruct in progress... please evacuate. T minutes six minutes, fifteen seconds..."

"Ah... we should hurry," Mako said softly. "I wish we had more time here, but... later, then." She cupped his jaw and placed a kiss on his lips.

Newt's face flushed and he nodded fervently. "Yes, yes. Later. Let's go."

He took her hand, and pulled her through the doorway, into the corridor.

Mako didn't have much time, but the split second she could bring her hands together long enough to pull the blade out of the inside of her sleeve was enough. She pulled on Newt's hand, stopping him in his stride, and sliced at his arm.

He let her go as blood gushed out, yelling, looking back at her with disbelief. "M-Mako?! Why?"

Mako didn't waste any time. She had no idea how fast Geiszler could transform, but she knew he could move undetected once he did. She turned around and ran into the generator room again, closing the door behind her.

Geiszler ran after her and slammed into the door as it shut. "MAKO!!! You little bitch!" He pounded on the door with his fists, his eyes bright yellow again, burning at her with anger. "I should have known!! You fucking cunt!! I'll have you one day, Mako. And then I won't be nice to you! Ha!"

He continued to scream and rage, but the latches on the door were solid. For now, at least, Mako thought.

Behind her, Pentecost picked up his swords and sash, and fastened them on his side again. "Well done, Mako," he said.

Mako bowed to him slightly, enough to bring her head underneath his.

Sensei had saved her in teaching her the many ways in which she could save herself, too.

* * *

Chuck kept his gaze on the floor, on the feet of the person in front of him—Hu, in this case. The triplets surrounded him, strangely enough. He wasn't sure why their attitude towards him had changed, though it probably had something to do with what happened back in the dungeon. He tried to not think back to it too much, even though his thoughts kept pulling towards it like moths to a flame.

A few yards behind him, five PPDC soldiers and one Sasha were carrying his father.

Chuck tried to not think too much about that, either.

Jin had tried to prepare him for the shock, but there was really no way to prepare for seeing your father again—fully, not just a sidelong near-hallucinatory glance—for the first time in years, and have him look like some goddamn Hulked out lizard-man-hybrid. Chuck wasn't sure what kind of emotional response he was even having, not that his emotions or responses were making any sense anymore anyway. He wasn't angry or sad, just... he just put it on the pile of crap he didn't know how to process.

Maybe this whole thing was some kind of trip, he thought. Maybe he'd taken the wrong drugs in Seattle and had been tripping his head off thinking his entire life was being manipulated by aliens. Maybe he'd plugged into some kind of virtual reality videogame when he was 15 and this was all a big simulation. Like the Matrix. Any time now, he'd wake up.

No way his father was now a lizard man on steroids. The fuck was this, a comic book?

Reality felt awfully real, though. He was cold, and sore everywhere—especially his  _ face, _ because Hannibal had probably broken his nose or at least sprained it, and his ass, because that was the fucking story of his life. He should ask the PPDC for underwear with a built-in rectal ice pack.

Chuck snorted. Hu looked over his shoulder. "You ok?"

"'m doing fantastic, mate," Chuck replied. Hu raised an eyebrow. Chuck tried to keep his face straight.

Maybe this was it. Maybe the batshit crazy events that made up his life story had finally piled up high enough to have him snap. Gone off the deep end. Cracked a fruity. Stark freaking mad. Completely lost it. He was having trouble not actually laughing out loud. That would probably raise some more eyebrows.

What did Sasha call it? Mild shock? Well, he preferred this to literally anything else he'd felt today. Maybe later he could have a cry about it.

They were tracing their steps back to the staircase that had led them down here in the first place. Yancy was taking point, flanked by two soldiers, and Chuck was content to follow. He longed for a bed. A fluffy one. And a bath. And a drink. A big one, with rocks in it. And a tiny pink umbrella.

Chuck bit his lip to suppress another chuckle.

Everyone else was kinda subdued, which given everything that had happened wasn't much of a surprise. They were probably all glad it was more or less over, and that despite the depressing body count, they had succeeded in their mission. Now and then they stopped to switch out the soldiers who were carrying Herc. Except Sasha, who dragged him on her right shoulder the entire time. Sasha was pretty hardcore, Chuck decided. He remembered when she'd approached him in the Kwoon. It would be fun to learn moves from her.

The staircase came into view. "Halt," Yancy called from the front, and they stopped. With a loud groan and the help of the soldiers Sasha dropped Herc down to the floor, and walked to the front.

"Yes?" she said.

Chuck wondered if they'd have to go back up the at-least-a-dozen-stairs. He hoped not. He was already feeling sorry for whoever was gonna carry his old man up there.

"Down here," Yancy said, pointing to the right of the staircase. There was nothing there but the concrete floor.

Yancy carefully walked towards it, scanning with his tablet.

Somehow Chuck had forgotten what a nerd Yancy was. It was kind of amusing given his  _ other _ interests.

Yancy rapped his knuckles against the wall. Nothing happened.

"Uh," he said.

Sasha took her—Aleksis'—shotgun out of her belt and rammed the stock of it into the spot Yancy tapped just now.

There was a click, followed by a rattling sound, and then the floor slid aside to reveal a ladder.

Of course. Of course the secret basement in the dungeon of the mobster club had a secret escape route. What the fuck was his life.

"Good," Sasha said. "Also, Yancy—how is communication to LOCCENT?"

"Still bad," Yancy replied. "But we should be getting a better signal down in the tunnel."

"Okay. Send pulse message now," Sasha said.

 

Yancy nodded in confirmation and tapped the radio on his ear, then looked at his tablet. "Pulse sent... hold on."

"What is it?" Sasha asked. She leaned forward to look at the screen and read the message. She narrowed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and leaned back. "Shit."

Yancy frowned. "This code isn't good news?" Radio pulse couldn't get more than 16 characters through, but that was plenty for status and GPS coordinates. "LC-PR1-PTFL-1800," he said out loud.

Around Chuck, he heard the Weis suck in their breaths at nearly the same time.

Well, not good news, then.

"This is Pitfall Protocol," Sasha said. She glanced at the group, her gaze staying pointedly on every single PPDC soldier. "You twelve. Forward. Drop weapons."

The soldiers looked at each other, and did as ordered. The Weis stayed protectively around Chuck, which was beginning to seriously weird him out. Not only that, but they took up their handguns and aimed them at the soldiers.

"What is the Pitfall Protocol?" Yancy inquired.

"It means Shatterdome was compromised," Sasha answered, her tone of voice as grim as her expression. "It means LOCCENT gone. And it means... Kaiju traitors."

This did unsettle Chuck. Up till now he'd been feeling okay—but now, the threat of the Kaiju loomed over them again. Traitors? But he knew it couldn't be... and then he realized that's why Sasha had called the twelve soldiers forward.

"You can't be serious," Chuck said, before he was even aware of thinking it. "They've been with us the whole time! They outnumber us! They could have stopped us at any time if they were traitors."

"Exactly," Sasha said. "Then escape is great opportunity. We think safe. Everything OK. Then they shoot us in back, take you."

Chuck frowned, shaking his head. That made no sense. "Take  _ me _ ?"

"Yes," Sasha replied. "We get Raleigh. We get your father. You should be safe in LOCCENT. But instead you are here. Is not coincidence."

"It's... not...?" Chuck blamed his current, possibly deranged mental state. "But I sneaked along—"

"With very helpful Ranger Gage," Sasha said pointedly.

Chuck felt like he should be getting something by now that was glaringly obvious. Yancy's face indicated that  _ he _ was finally connecting the dots, but to Chuck's mind it was like staring at one of those numbered-dot-coloring-book-pictures only none of the dots were numbered in the right order and the picture made no sense.

"...What?" he managed. His head hurt. A lot.

Beside him, Hu groaned. "The Gages were probably Kaiju agents, Chuck," he said. "They got you onto this mission so Hannibal Chau had a chance of recapturing you."

"And he probably would've succeeded if you hadn't, like, uh..." Jin searched for words to describe what Chuck had managed to do to Hannibal Chau. "...killed him," Jin finished his sentence tactfully.

Another laugh bubbled up in Chuck's chest, even less appropriate for the situation than the previous one.  _ I must really be going crazy,  _ Chuck thought to himself.

"Ah, that," Chuck said, trying to stay serious. "But,  _ they  _ died." That, he knew. And dammit, even with this new knowledge, it still sucked. Worse. It sucked twice as hard now that not only were the first two genuinely nice dudes he knew in the PPDC dead, they hadn't even been genuinely nice.

_ Fuck my life,  _ Chuck thought. _ Then, I guess these mood swings still mean crazy, right? _

He should probably ask someone at some point. He hoped the PPDC had a psychologist. He needed like five.

His eyes darted towards Yancy and stayed there. Well.  _ No, I don't need him. _

But Yancy must have recognised something in his gaze, and he walked forward past Sasha who then immediately grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?"

He glared at her. "Chuck is losing it," he said. "Look at him, for fuck's sake."

Jin's hand landed on Chuck's shoulder, and then Cheung's on the other. Hu turned around to face Chuck and frowned. "Yancy is right."

Chuck's gaze darted back and forth, to Hu, to Yancy, to Sasha. "I'm fine, you guys."

Hu made eye contact with his brothers. "We got this, Yancy," he said. And then Hu leaned forward, shoved Chuck's collar out of the way, tilted Chuck's jaw to the side, and sank his teeth into Chuck's neck. Hard. Not to tear skin, but pressing his teeth down into it with bruising strength.

Chuck blinked. Gasped. This was new. For one wonderful second his mind was blank. Electricity shot through him from the spot of the bite down his spine to his groin. Then Hu pulled back, met Chuck’s eyes and studied him carefully.

“Thought so,” Hu mumbled. Chuck’s eyes were no longer wild, but instead getting glazed over, heavy-lidded. Hu smiled a little. They’d been waiting for this for a while, and this timing was as good as any. He leaned forward again, pressing his lips against the bite, only scraping his teeth enough to stimulate the bruised skin.

Hu’s body was folded over Chuck’s, strong and warm and heavy, and he sighed when Jin bracketed his body from behind, further wrapping Chuck up in their warmth. Jin’s fingers were on his neck, tugging his collar down from behind and then Jin’s teeth were on the back of his neck. Chuck gasped, another shot of electricity and heat going through him as Jin bit down.

Finally, Cheung came to their side, wrapping his arms around Chuck’s waist. He buried his face in Chuck’s neck, kissing the skin there before finally biting down. Chuck let out a soft whine before he could stop himself.

He was having a little trouble staying upright. His  _ legs, _ anyway. Another part of him, not so much.

 

What the hell was this?

His focus was back. The noise that had been raging through his mind was gone. His eyes sought Hu's.

The triplets were close to him. Hugging him, more or less.

"You're in our  _ pack  _ now, Chuck," Jin whispered, loud enough so only the four of them could hear.

Cheung licked the bruise where he had bitten Chuck and Chuck shivered. Then Cheung’s hand, which had been resting on Chuck’s waist, moved lower.

 

Chuck gasped when Cheung’s hand grabbed him through his pants, and he could feel the curve of Cheung’s lips as he smiled. “You’re already so hard for us,” Cheung murmured.

“We’re so proud of you,” Hu whispered, nuzzling the reddened skin of Chuck’s neck.

Chuck whined again when Cheung’s grip tightened and stroked him, his hips jerking forward. After the noise and the confusion, and then the stillness, now his mind and body were filled with the warm glow of pleasure, of being touched and being taken care of and he couldn’t quite recall the last time he’d felt like this.

“Come for us, pup,” Jin husked, teeth scraping, and Chuck obeyed earnestly. His lips parted and his body tensed as he came in Cheung’s grasp, heat coursing through his body, held up by the strong arms around him.

They only let go when Chuck swayed forward again, his legs no longer shaky. His cheeks were glowing. He felt… good.  _ Content. _

Hu's eyes seemed to gleam. Proud, almost. "Stay here, pup," Hu said. "You belong with us now." He ruffled Chuck's hair.

Something inside of Chuck began to glow, weak but warm, like a newly kindled fire.

Hu stepped back and Chuck bemoaned the loss of warmth. "He's okay now," Hu called back to Sasha and Yancy.

Yancy's frown showed he didn't understand what just happened, and didn't like it one bit.

"Good!" Sasha exclaimed, calling them all back to attention. Then she waved her shotgun at the twelve soldiers, who were nervously fidgeting as the twin barrels moved back and forth in front of them. "Now what should we do with you?"

One of the privates stepped forward and Sasha swung her shotgun towards them.

"Ma'am! Private Ilisapie Flint, ma'am!" She saluted and fiercely met Sasha's gaze. "My life partner was abducted and killed by the Kaiju, ma'am. I did not qualify to be a Ranger, but I will gladly die for the PPDC if it helps take down those bastards! Though I'd rather one of them dies instead of me! Ma'am!"

Sasha raised an eyebrow and took a few steps closer to take a good look at private Flint. "Hmmmm. And maybe you first to tell me this because you want me fooled," Sasha said.

Private Flint did not budge. "If you must shoot me to have the mission succeed, ma'am, then do it, though I think it will not improve our chances against the Kaiju, ma'am!"

"Oh?" There was a gleam in Sasha's eyes. She was starting to like this one. "Tell me. Why you not make Ranger?"

At this, Flint's gaze drifted away a little. "...They said I had already bonded so training was not possible. I don't know what that meant, ma'am."

"Hmmm. Yes," Sasha said. "Fine." She grabbed Flint by the shoulder and pushed her towards Yancy. "Rest of you have sob stories? We do not have much time."

Jin walked up to her. "No, we don't. I suggest we tie them up and get moving. We can figure out who's what later."

Sasha growled. " _ Fine, _ " she bit. She waved her shotgun around again. "If any of you is traitor, I will find you later and make your death  _ very _ painful."

"I just received another code," Yancy said. "LC-PR1-PTFL-1300."

"You heard man," Sasha snapped. "Clock is ticking. Move!"

* * *

"We're getting a signal from the Horizon unit," Vic Tunari said, calling out to the cabin behind him. "New coordinates."

"I suppose they've gone a different escape route," Tamsin mused as she climbed towards the cockpit. The weather outside was still terrible, as it had been all day—so dark that it almost felt like there had been no day at all. She clung to the rings hanging from the ceiling to keep her balance. "ETA, Vic?"

"2 minutes and some," Vic answered. "They're almost outside of Kowloon Bay. They must've taken the long way around for this one."

"Any more info?" Tamsin threw a glance back towards Raleigh. He was still out of it, but it seemed physical exhaustion more than anything else. He seemed to be nodding off to sleep, now and then startled awake by the thunder and lightning outside, or perhaps his own thoughts.

"Coming through now," Vic replied. "...Extraction of Hercules Hansen successful."

Despite the terrible situation they were in, that was good news. Tamsin squeezed Vic's shoulder. "Good. Get us there, pilot."

"Aye-aye, ma'am," Vic said, his tone a little more hopeful than a minute ago.

Back in the cabin, Raleigh's ears had caught two words that peaked his interest. He was waking up again. "...Herc?" he mumbled.

Tamsin made her way to Raleigh and strapped herself back into the seat opposite him. "We've got him," she replied.

Raleigh gave her a weak smile. "Daddy's back..."

Tamsin and Gunnar exchanged glances. Daddy? Their intel on what had happened to Raleigh at the hands of Hannibal Chau was non-existent. But if Raleigh and Herc had trained and bonded together, that was something else. That was new. Tamsin supposed at some point Hannibal's Kaiju masters must have gotten tired of poorly-performing slaves, and Hannibal had made an attempt at the PPDC's own techniques. That was hopeful. It might mean Raleigh's recovery wouldn't be as difficult as she'd thought. Hell, now she might actually have a shot at it. If Herc was in good shape, the process could go much faster, Raleigh could begin his Ranger training—

She was getting fired up. With Pentecost signaling the Pitfall protocol things had taken a turn for the worse, but eventually, this might become a bigger strike against the Kaiju than anything they'd done before. All they needed was time.

"Target in sight," Vic said.

* * *

Chuck stood outside in the rain, taking in big gulps of fresh air, his head lifted up towards the sky, drinking in the drops that fell on his lips and tongue.

He felt  _ alive. _

His surroundings fell away from him. For a second, there was nothing but him and the rain, embracing him, cooling him down, washing him clean.

He started to take off his armor, piece by piece, until he stood there, stark naked. Slowly, the countless water drops took the blood away from his skin, down his body in long lines, leaving only the patches that had dried up too much. The rain took away the sweat, dirt, tears, spit that had stained his face.

_ Everything. Wash away everything, _ Chuck thought.  _ Don't leave a trace. _

For the first time in a long time, he genuinely felt okay for a moment.

Yancy watched him from a distance, a little worried, but mostly breathless. Chuck was a sight to behold. He'd always had a particular beauty about him—but as he stood there, it gave Yancy goosebumps. He felt Chuck stepping out of his reach, no longer needing him. Yancy wanted to go out and grab him, but he knew it was an old impulse. The young man who stood there would not welcome it at all. So Yancy simply looked on, somewhat mesmerized, and wondered if maybe, things weren't as bad as they seemed.

The radio piece in his ear crackled to life.

"Horizon, this is Coyote Tango, we've got eyes on you," a man's voice came, followed seconds later by the noise of a helicopter engine overpowering the clamoring of the rain and wind.

Yancy looked up.

A searchlight beamed towards their position, and he held his hand up against it. He almost found it hard to believe. He was tired, hungry, thirsty, sore, and had an incredible headache. He couldn't really feel his feet anymore. He knew it was only early in the evening, but it felt like he'd been gone for days. At some point during the mission, he'd wondered if he was even going to make it out alive at all. But here they were.

The Weis had gathered the suspected PPDC soldiers and guarded them carefully. Even so, each of them was incredibly relieved as well.

The heli landed, and Sasha was the first to walk towards it, shotgun still at the ready. They had encountered no resistance in the escape tunnel nor the warehouse outside. Hannibal must have never counted on them getting this far, or if he did, his lack of orders on account of being dead probably held off any follow-up. Sasha would like to believe that whatever the next move of the Kaiju was, it wasn't going to happen today. And the helicopter looked PPDC-issue. Coyote Tango was a PPDC callsign, but she had heard nothing about such a team on the mission. And with the Pitfall protocol, she wasn't going to trust anyone further than she could throw 'em.

Sasha walked towards the helicopter. Her shoulders and arms ached from carrying Herc through half of Hannibal's dungeon and an escape tunnel several miles long, but her mission wasn't over. Not yet. Not until they were all safe inside that vehicle. Not until she spoke to Pentecost herself. And perhaps for a part of her the mission would never be over, she thought; the part of her that was a part of Aleksis would always stay. Her hand tightened around the stock of the shotgun.

The side-door of the helicopter slid open, and a figure clad in dark-blue hopped out.

Sasha narrowed her eyes; with the weather and the bright lights of the helicopter, she couldn't tell who it was.

"Sasha Kaidonovsky," the figure said, and Sasha recognized the voice. She breathed a sigh of relief and tucked the shotgun back in her belt.

"Tamsin," Sasha said. "You were Coyote Tango."

Tamsin nodded. "We went in dark."

"Figures," Sasha replied. She nodded towards the heli. "Who else?"

"Vic and Gunnar," Tamsin said. "The only guys I trusted to have my back. Pentecost wasn't thrilled about me bringing them in." She placed a hand on her hip and glanced back. "And we have retrieved Raleigh Becket."

Sasha actually grinned at that. It was good news. "How is he?"

Tamsin frowned. "Could be better, could be worse. He was in the Bone Slum long enough to see the worst of it."

"Hmph," Sasha scoffed. "But alive."

 

"Malnourished and underweight, but alive, yes," Tamsin said. She glanced over Sasha's shoulder, and then back at Sasha. She'd already noticed the gun.

Sasha caught Tamsin's expression. "Aleksis killed in line of duty," Sasha said.

Tamsin's brow knitted together in an expression of sympathy. "I'm sorry, Sasha. That doesn't cover it, I know."

"No," Sasha agreed. "It doesn't."

"And what's that huge lump on the ground?" Tamsin inquired, gesturing towards Herc, who was still out cold.

"That's Hercules Hansen," Sasha replied. "He is... different. You should take a look. Kaiju shit."

"My specialty," Tamsin snarked. "Okay, have your people carry him up here, we'll strap him in and secure him in the hold. I'll take a look at him as soon as possible. We should get everyone else inside as well," she went on. "The Pitfall protocol is in place. You can brief me on the rest later."

"One last thing before leaving," Sasha added. She gestured towards the PPDC soldiers, still with their arms tied up behind their back. "Those eleven, could be traitors."

"Hmmm. The other one?" Tamsin inquired, gesturing towards private Flint.

"She is good," Sasha said. "For now."

Tamsin narrowed her eyes. Sasha caught her look. "Do not kill them all," she warned Tamsin. "They are good soldiers. Fought till the end. Carried giant Herc."

"Giant Herc...?" Tamsin reiterated. "Right." She thought for a minute. "Just get everyone inside, Sasha."

Sasha gritted her teeth. "Do  _ not. _ Kill them. Enough dead today, Tamsin. I am Mission Commander. I say no."

Tamsin's eyes were suddenly cold and stared Sasha down. "As Marshal Sevier, I am telling you to  _ follow your orders, Ranger.  _ Are you questioning your superior officer?"

Sasha took another step forward and looked about ready to throttle Tamsin. Tamsin didn't budge an inch and did not show a hint of fear or doubt. Finally, the fight drained out of Sasha. "Enough dead," she repeated.

Sasha turned around and walked back towards the group, raising her voice to bark orders. "Weis and Private Flint, get Herc into helicopter! Yancy and Chuck, with me! Move it!"

Tamsin turned around and climbed back inside the helicopter. "Gunnar, get the other door open, get Herc secured," she said, walking towards the cockpit. "Vic, have you got any sign of life from the 'Dome?"

"None yet," Vic said. "Don't worry. 'm sure the old jaguar ain't dead yet."

"Don't let him hear you call him that," Tamsin said.

"I don't know, I'd like to see his face try to have an expression when I do," Vic replied.

Tamsin snorted. "All right, all right. Keep scanning." She went back into the cabin and then got outside the helicopter. Yancy and Chuck had joined Sasha, who was glaring at Tamsin as soon as she appeared in field of vision.

Tamsin folded her arms and observed Yancy and Chuck. Raleigh was inside—and the response of these two had to be controlled somewhat. They could sort out their emotions later. Since the cabin was dark and obscured by lights on the outside of the heli, they hadn't spotted him yet.

Tamsin turned towards Chuck, taking him in—bruised-up, dried patches of blood on his skin where the rain couldn't wash it off; drenched, and not wearing a single piece of clothing. And his eyes—his eyes were unlike she'd ever seen them before.

"Chuck," she replied. "You look... alive."

"Yes," Chuck replied. He wasn't sure what else to make of it. He reached a hand towards his neck, remembering how the Weis had bit him. It had felt good, though he still wasn't sure what they had meant by it, and what it meant when they said Chuck was a part of their pack now. But he liked it.

"Okay, you two," Tamsin started. "I have good news, but I need you to stay calm. Understood?"

Yancy's eyebrows went up, his lips parted. "Is it… my brother?"

Tamsin pinched the bridge of her nose. "We've rescued Raleigh," she said. "He's not in great shape, but he's alive."

Yancy was already taking a big step towards the heli and Tamsin pressed the palm of her hand against his chest. "I'm telling you to stay calm, Yancy, " she said pointedly. "Raleigh has been through a lot. You need to give him time."

At that, Yancy scoffed. It's not like he'd forgotten everything that Tamsin had done in the past, to Chuck, and to him. She was hardly the kind of person to get concerned over people's mental health.

Chuck didn't say anything, and just frowned, his thoughts racing.  _ Not in great shape. Been through a lot. _ He knew Raleigh had been in the Bone Slum. He knew he'd been trained by Hannibal for weeks. Chuck knew what that was like. He clenched his fists. This whole time he had kind of known, but now that Raleigh was actually here—it was a reality. It couldn't be undone.  _ If we'd known, _ Chuck thought,  _ if only I'd... we could've... I didn't want anyone else to go through that. _

Old feelings surfaced, memories that now seemed years away even though it was just a few months; that one long summer, Raleigh smelling like the sun, his smile beaming at Chuck... the warmth of his body, the safety Chuck had found there. The weird way his chest ached every time he remembered that Raleigh had been the one person who'd refused him when Chuck had offered himself. He couldn't explain how or why, but that meant everything to him.  _ He has to be okay. I have to get him back. _

Tamsin caught Yancy's glare at her. "You and Chuck are different. You're PPDC trained," she said.

"How is that any different," Yancy snapped.

"It is," Chuck spoke up. He turned his head towards Yancy. "You trained me before I fell into Hannibal's hands. Raleigh didn't have that luck. He's... he could be..."

 

Chuck glanced at Tamsin. She understood. Chuck knew he was supposed to hate her for what she had done to him; she had given him drugs so he would bond with Yancy. But it was that bond that had saved him in a place where nothing else would.

"Okay," Tamsin said. "You can go in. Chuck, you go first. Get yourself cleaned up and put on a jumpsuit."

Chuck nodded, and Yancy's nostrils flared with anger. He pushed back against Tamsin's hand and bared his teeth. "Raleigh is  _ my brother, _ " he hissed.

"And intel says the last time you two met you were not on good terms," Tamsin shot back. "Don't get all indignant at me, Yancy. If your brother doesn't freak out at seeing Chuck it should be fine."

Yancy stepped back, but he didn't look too happy about it.

 

Tamsin turned around and approached Sasha. "Get Yancy inside as soon as Chuck is settled," Tamsin said.

"And the soldiers?" Sasha asked grimly, her glare towards Tamsin sharp and ice-cold.

"I'll take care of them," Tamsin said, leaving little to the imagination. She held Sasha's stare.

Sasha's emotions were battling it out on her face, and finally, she settled on one of them. " _ No. _ "

Tamsin's gaze darkened. "Are you disobeying a direct order, Ranger?"

Sasha bared her teeth at Tamsin. "You can court-martial me later," she hissed. "No. more. dead."

She shoved Tamsin back and marched towards the eleven soldiers, grabbing a pocket knife out of her utility belt.

"Once I untie you, better run like hell," Sasha told them. She cut through their zip ties one by one.

Several yards behind them, Tamsin cursed, and without a second of doubt, grabbed Yancy's gun out of his holster, aiming, and shot down four of the soldiers in rapid succession.

"TAMSIN!!!" Sasha roared. "Let them go!!!" She ran back. Tamsin shot three more before Sasha collided with her and sent her sprawling on the concrete, gun scattering away. The other five ran out of range as fast as their legs could carry them.

"Are you a fucking idiot?!" Tamsin exclaimed. "Your precious honor and squishy heart are gonna compromise everything we have worked for!"

"You crazy bitch," Sasha spat, her hands tightening in Tamsin's jacket. "Honor mean nothing to you, huh?"

Tamsin's gaze turned even darker, to the point where it sent shivers down Yancy's spine. "You haven't seen what me and Stacks saw," Tamsin said, her voice low and frightening. "You weren't  _ there. _ You have  _ no _ idea what you are talking about. If you did, honor wouldn't mean shit to you either."

Tamsin's tone and expression unsettled even Sasha, whose rage was tempered by it. She climbed off and took a few steps back. Then, after a few moments of hesitation, she reached out her hand towards Tamsin.

Tamsin grabbed it, letting Sasha pull her to her feet. "This will have consequences," Tamsin said.

"Fine," Sasha replied. "Let's just get the hell out of here."

Tamsin threw an acidic glance at Yancy. "I'm not hearing any screams," she said. "Get inside already."

Yancy didn't dare argue with anything Tamsin said, and scrambled inside the helicopter.

* * *

Chuck had heard gunshots outside, but right now, he couldn't give a damn. Raleigh was here. He was really here, in the flesh, breathing. He looked skinny and pale and exhausted, but he was here.

When he'd climbed inside, he'd been greeted by a man who'd introduced himself as Gunnar Tunari, brother of the pilot Vic Tunari. He was wearing dark blue casual clothes, wrapped around him, and braces on his underarms and shins. It was the same kind of outfit Tamsin had been wearing, and Chuck couldn't quite place it. Something vaguely Japanese, maybe? But he hadn't really paid much attention to that as he'd caught a glimpse of blonde hair behind the guy.

Gunnar had thrown him a towel and a jumpsuit, like Tamsin had instructed; Chuck had given himself a quick wipe and worked himself into the suit that was way too big for him, and then had nearly pushed Gunnar aside so he could get to Raleigh.

_ Raleigh. _

Chuck had been waiting, hoping, worrying to see him; having dreams and nightmares and fantasies. And until this moment, he hadn't realized how much it had  _ hurt. _ Not really. Not until he saw Raleigh now, sitting there, his expression somewhat dazed, staring at the floor, barely noticing Chuck. Until now, Chuck hadn't felt that pang inside his chest that told him he was hurt and that Raleigh had been the one to hurt him.

_ You left me, _ Chuck thought.  _ You got up and you left me alone in that mansion and now—now you're like this. _

It was almost too much. He was suddenly so angry—and then relieved again, for Raleigh was  _ here _ and  _ alive _ —and then afraid, of what Raleigh had been through, what he had become what was done to him. Chuck jammed his teeth in his lower lip, the nails of his right hand digging into its palm. He didn't know how to process this at all. He wanted to reach out, wanted to touch Raleigh, wanted to hold him and feel his warmth and smell his scent; he wanted to cry and scream; he wanted to ask a hundred questions but couldn't find the words.

Finally, his feet kind of decided for him, taking him closer to Raleigh, one step after the other. "Raleigh," Chuck said, his voice coming out a lot shakier than he'd wanted.

Raleigh looked up, noticing Chuck properly at last, his eyes focusing.

Chuck could see the spark of recognition there, but not much. Raleigh's brow furrowed, his eyes flicking back and forth as he tried to remember more.

"Chuck," Raleigh replied, finally, his voice cracking. His lip trembled and he averted his gaze, but Chuck had already seen the glistening in Raleigh's eyes.

He took a few steps closer, still afraid to reach out. "Raleigh..."

And it was Raleigh who reached out to him first, a hand desperately wrapping around his wrist. "Chuck, I'm—" Raleigh whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Chuck had no idea what Raleigh was sorry for. But his anger melted away, for now at least; he couldn't bear it. He couldn't stand being angry when Raleigh was right here in front of him, trying to choke back his tears but failing to; when to Chuck, the traces that Hannibal left on Raleigh were almost visible as if they had been put on in bright red paint.

Chuck took the last few steps and wrapped his arms around Raleigh's shoulders, and Raleigh unbuckled his seat straps, falling forward into Chuck and bringing his arms up around his torso.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Raleigh whispered over and over, and Chuck just rubbed his back, ran a hand through Raleigh's hair.

"It's okay," Chuck repeated every now and then. "You're safe now. It's okay."

There was still a hint of Raleigh's own scent around him, despite everything. As if the traces of himself hadn't been completely extinguished. Chuck leaned forward a little more, just to catch more of that smell—it reminded him of good things, things that weren't this place and this time where both of them had already become so different. A lump formed in his throat, and he couldn't swallow it down.

The skin on his back prickled, and Chuck threw a glance over his shoulder to see Yancy climbing into the helicopter. His hand on Raleigh tightened a little. He was feeling protective, for some reason—how odd things were, now, that it was him who was protecting Raleigh. It hadn't even been that long since things were the other way around, but it felt like a different lifetime.

"Raleigh," Yancy breathed, when he saw them. He stumbled towards them in a hurry and sat down on the seat next to his brother.

Raleigh lifted his head a little and Chuck took it as a cue to move back, but then Raleigh's hand wrapped tight around his wrist again, and Raleigh looked up towards him. "Don't go," he said hoarsely, and then his gaze flickered towards Yancy only briefly before looking away.

Yancy hesitantly reached out a hand to touch Raleigh and as soon as his fingertips touched the fabric of Raleigh's jumpsuit Raleigh flinched hard and leaned into Chuck more.

Yancy frowned. "Raleigh... it's me, Yance. Your brother. Rals—"

Chuck felt Raleigh's hand squeeze him tighter.

Chuck wasn't entirely sure what Raleigh was thinking, what he was feeling—but he could guess, a little bit. He ran his hand through Raleigh's hair. "It's okay, Raleigh," he said softly.

"It's not," Raleigh choked out. "Yance, please just... just go."

Yancy's eyes went large in shock, and Chuck saw how visibly hurt he was.

"Yancy, he just needs some time," Chuck said. Something in him was tuned into Raleigh and he couldn't explain to Yancy how it felt, either. But he knew. Having to face his own brother...

Yancy frowned and pulled a hand over his face. "Okay. Okay. Yeah." He got up off his seat. "Just... Rals, I'm here for you. I'm so glad you're okay. I..." He didn't finish his sentence and let out a sigh instead. Then he moved several seats down the row and sat down next to Gunnar.

Finally, Tamsin and Sasha climbed inside.

"We're all here then," Tamsin said. "Everyone get strapped in."

Chuck narrowed his eyes and glanced at Tamsin. "The soldiers—they're not coming?"

"No," Tamsin replied simply. Across the cabin, Sasha's eyes met Ilisapie's, and Sasha shook her head. Ilisapie gritted her teeth and looked away.

Tamsin walked to the cockpit. "Vic, do you have a signal from Pentecost yet?"

"I'm picking something up," Vic replied. He pointed at the radar screen. "Three miles north-east of the Shatterdome and heading our way at 70kph."

"Sounds like it's them," Tamsin said. "Head in that direction and see if you can hail them."

"Yes ma'am," Vic said. He turned around towards the cabin. "Is everyone back there secure? We're taking off!"

Chuck carefully moved out of Raleigh's embrace and strapped himself into the seat next to him. Raleigh grabbed his hand again as soon as he could and Chuck gave it a small squeeze. He still didn't quite understand why Raleigh was fixating on him as a point of comfort, but he was glad to be able to put him at ease a little.

He didn't know what Raleigh went through, but he could guess; and he wondered what was next for them. How was Raleigh going to recover from this? How was he? The images of what happened between him and Hannibal in the dungeon were still trying to push their way into his consciousness from the back of his mind. But every time they got far enough, there was the echo of the Weis' teeth on his neck. What was going to happen to them after this? To all of them?

Perhaps he needed Raleigh's hand in his just as much.

"All good," Sasha called back to Vic.

Tamsin walked back to the cabin to strap herself in next to Herc, who'd been secured by the Weis with various straps to take up two seats in the cabin, his back towards the cockpit. She frowned, studying his appearance, and seemed stricken by it. “Herc…”

Chuck felt Raleigh's hand twitch.

"Daddy," Raleigh mumbled.

Chuck's eyes flew wide open.  _ No, no way,  _ he thought.  _ Please tell me he didn't just say that— _

The whole time Chuck had been trying to ignore the fact that his old man was  _ right there, _ and had been mostly successful thanks to Raleigh taking up his attention. But now that he was seated he could look right at him and he wished he hadn't. He wished Raleigh hadn't said that and that Chuck knew what it implied.

_ They trained together—and me and Raleigh... this is too fucked up. _

Chuck squinted his eyes shut. No way his dad was over there looking nearly twice as big as the man he remembered. Maybe that wasn't his dad and just something the kaiju came up with. No, that was a worse idea.

"Fuck," Chuck mumbled, and his free hand went up to his neck, stroking the bites again. He didn't know why that settled him down so much.

There was a rustling noise next to him and a warmth of a body, so Chuck looked to his side to see who'd come to sit down next to him. It was Jin.

Jin reached towards Chuck and grabbed him by the back of his neck, gently, pressing on the bite. Chuck's anxious wide-eyed gaze met Jin's, whose expression was a lot calmer. "Easy, pup," Jin said softly. "We're here with you."

What the hell was this? Chuck had no idea, but it  _ worked. _ Was it a dog thing? Maybe it was a dog thing.

Chuck closed his eyes. Maybe what he was going to see behind his eyelids from the back of his mind wasn't going to be great, but for now he really couldn't bear to look at the creature that may-or-may-not-be his old man. The implications were too crazy and he could feel his heart speeding up. At least like this, seeing nothing, squeezing Raleigh's hand on one side and feeling Jin's grip grounding him, perhaps he could pretend for a while it was really going to be okay.

* * *

Mako huddled in the small PPDC speedboat as best she could, clinging to the railing in her lifejacket whilst trying to not get blown overboard by the storm. Sensei was at the controls whilst at the other side, Gottlieb was trying to do the same thing as her, trying to not freeze or drown and survive this ride. They'd run into him at the docks—Gottlieb was the only other PPDC officer to know the specifics of the Pitfall protocol. Sensei must really trust him, Mako thought. Their previous kaiju expert had been Newton Geiszler, and he'd switched sides.

Behind them, the sky and sea lit up as the Shatterdome went up in flames.

It broke Mako's heart. They'd made it out with seconds to spare, as explosions went off throughout the base, walkways and corridors collapsing, everything they had built up destroyed only to be sure the kaiju would not get their hands on it. Mako really hoped Newton had not made it out alive. Perhaps she should have killed him—but she hadn't dared to risk him transforming and recapturing her.

And now, they were steering their boat through the waters of Kowloon Bay, trying to weather the storm and meet up with whatever was left of the PPDC. Just like Chuck, Mako found herself wondering where they were going to go from here. They had poured so many resources into all of this—into constructing and maintaining the Shatterdome, into this entire mission. She hoped it had been worth it.

Over the storm she couldn't hear the helicopter when it arrived, but a searchlight beamed down. Mako looked up. Were these their enemies or their allies? But sensei didn't seem to be worried. The beam of light moved ahead of them and the boat veered, sharply changing course.

"Hang on!!" Pentecost shouted, his voice mostly washed out by the rain and thunder.

They followed the helicopter through the storm, eventually ending up in calmer waters, and Mako felt the boat hit something solid. She dared a look over the edge of the steering cabin and saw that they had arrived at a small, abandoned dock. The helicopter was hovering at a distance.

"Mako, Mr. Gottlieb," Pentecost said. "Let's go." He gave Gottlieb a hand, trusting Mako to be steady enough on her feet, and together the three of them walked down the docks towards the warehouses where the helicopter was landing.

The door to the side slid open, and Mako recognized Tamsin's frame and stance as she got out. She'd spent too much time training with her not to. She also noticed Tamsin was wearing her shinobi armor.  _ So that's what sensei meant by them going in dark, _ Mako thought.

Even sensei looked relieved at seeing Tamsin, and he clapped a hand on her shoulder. Tamsin grinned. "Good to see you alive and well, Stacks," she shouted. The wind was picking up again.

"You can brief me later, Marshal," sensei called back. "Let's get going!"

Mako saluted Tamsin quickly, and then climbed into the helicopter and turned around to help Gottlieb inside. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness inside, she looked around. Who was left? Who was gone? She knew of Aleksis—and it was Sasha's eyes who she met first.

Mako's brow furrowed in sympathy, and she gave Sasha a quick bow. She didn't know what else to say right now. There was too much of it, and too much had happened today. There would be time later.

Sasha was sitting next to a huge man—someone Mako did not know. He was taking up two seats and was strapped in with at least a dozen belts. Who was it? Mako tried to make out his features, but then there was a cough next to her, and she turned her head towards the sound.

Her eyes met Yancy's, and his expression was both relieved and worried. He looked different, too—not at all like the man she'd said goodbye to that morning. There'd been tension between them then, hints of desire, begrudgingly parting to do their duty. This Yancy looked tired and worn out and strangely vulnerable. She hadn't seen him like that in a long time. It reminded him of when he was training Chuck and harming himself—it wasn't a good look at all.

But she was glad he was here. Glad he was alive. She took a few steps closer to him and Yancy reached out and grabbed her hand.

"Mako..." Yancy licked his lips, unsure what to say. "Your hand's really cold." He squeezed it softly.

"It's cold outside," Mako replied. She wasn't sure what to say either.

The man who was sitting next to Yancy and whom Mako hadn't recognized either tapped the side of his head with two fingers in a casual salute. "Mako Mori," he said. His voice was gruff, and just like his appearance, not very young. "I've heard a lot about you. I'm Gunnar Tunari. My brother Vic's flying this thing."

Tunari? Mako had heard of them. You usually heard about legends. She blinked a few times in surprise. Gunnar's appearance did not belie that legend status, either. He looked like an old lion that had seen a lot of fights, a long scar crossing over his face, his hair silver-grey and his skin tan but lighter on the bumps that were other, smaller scars; his nose looked like it had been broken a few times and his right eye was a little glazed over, as if he'd lost some of his vision in it. "Gunnar," Mako repeated. "I've heard of you as well."

"Huh," Gunnar grinned. "Hope it wasn't anything bad."

"It wasn't," Mako agreed.

Yancy tugged on her hand a little. Mako glanced at the seat next to him and then proceeded to sit down and strap herself in as well. Yancy seemed glad to have her nearby.

On her right side, Mako had seen Raleigh, Chuck and Jin sitting together; Chuck and Raleigh sitting hand-in-hand with their eyes closed, and Jin's hand on Chuck's neck. They looked like they didn't want to be disturbed, and Mako wanted to respect that.

Opposite her sat the other two Weis, a PPDC soldier unfamiliar to her, and Gottlieb was strapping himself in next to them. Finally, Tamsin and Pentecost climbed aboard. Tamsin made a beeline for the cockpit, and Pentecost briefly glanced around before securing himself next to the giant unconscious guy who took up two seats. Mako took another attempt at identifying him.

It couldn't be—Herc? Mako hadn't seen him that often, but it would match what she knew about the mission. It was mostly his face—the square jaw, high forehead, and smattering of ginger hair—that hinted at his identity. The same features Chuck had. He didn't quite look as masculine as his father yet, but the older Chuck had become the more roundness in his face had faded away, and he had those same light eyes. Mako frowned. What on earth had happened to Herc to have him look like...  _ that. _

The Marshal's gaze rested on Herc and his expression turned to one of sadness and anger. Mako could only guess at the thoughts that must run through her sensei's mind, seeing his long-time friend turned into this by his greatest enemy.

Being here amongst these people at the end of their mission brought more questions than answers to mind.

It was a small crowd, Mako thought. But only missing Aleksis, this crowd held all the people that mattered to her.

Tamsin stayed in the cockpit, getting into the co-pilot's seat next to Vic. She flicked at a switch and the intercom went on as the helicopter lifted off the ground.

"Everyone. We're getting out of Hong Kong and it's going to be a few hours to our next destination. There's water and rations in the overhead storage and if you gotta go, there's a chemical toilet in the back—"

Gunnar snorted. "Just like old times," he mumbled.

"—and a door on the side," Tamsin continued. "Get some rest. You've deserved it."

Tamsin flicked off the intercom, and Vic threw her a sidelong glance. "And what's our next destination, exactly?"

"Where else?" Tamsin breathed out. "Manila."

Vic grinned. "Just like old times."

  
  
  



	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue and final chapter of Rain.

Chuck undressed, gingerly, peeling out of the layers of clothing that were sticking to his bruised skin. Even if the rain had washed off a lot he still stank of blood and sweat, and an uncomfortable 3-hour flight to the Philippines followed by a jeep ride up a mountain through the jungle didn’t help the smell.

The villa was something else, though. It was more luxurious than even the PPDC penthouse back in LA, with enough room for everyone to stay out of each other’s way. From what Chuck had seen, technologically advanced, too.

The bathroom was huge, all white tile and dark marble, with a luxurious bath enough for two people, a large shower cabin, and even a small sauna room. And a full-length mirror. Chuck winced as he caught his own reflection, but couldn’t tear his eyes away, either.

The story of the day before was painted on his body in bruises. With the exception of the obvious ones on his face, courtesy of the late Hannibal Chau, he didn’t really know where the rest came from.

He felt like shit. He looked like shit.

He really needed that shower.

There was a knock on the door.

“Chuck?” Raleigh’s voice came.

“‘s all right, you can come in,” Chuck called back.

Raleigh was already naked. It had been hard to keep him dressed and the second he and Chuck had been brought to their room he’d just taken everything off. Raleigh appeared a lot less damaged than Chuck on the outside, except maybe he was thinner than Chuck remembered. Didn’t say much about the inside damage, though. Raleigh had been captive for only a couple of months but that was enough time for Hannibal to fuck anyone up for life.

Raleigh shuffled towards Chuck, wringing his hands, shoulders hunched. He looked like an embarrassed kid.

His eyes flickered up to meet Chuck’s for a brief moment. “Um...I… wondered if I could join you in the shower, maybe?”

He’d been really attached to Chuck from the second they were re-united, which was weird for Chuck. He wasn’t used to people trying to rely on him. But Raleigh was like, a puppy or something, trailing after Chuck wherever he went. Fine by him, too. Raleigh was about the only person he could stand in his vicinity anyway, everyone else pissed him off for a variety of reasons.

“Sure, yeah,” Chuck replied. He opened the shower door and turned on the water, almost stepping right under the cold rays until he caught himself. Right, he could do hot water, that was… a normal thing to do. Being comfortable.

The water turned warm pretty fast and he held the door open behind him for Raleigh to step through. There was more than enough room for two people in the cabin. The PPDC built this place so probably everything was designed for having sex in it or on top of it.

Nevertheless, Raleigh crowded him a little, nearly hugging him under the huge rainfall shower.

Chuck leaned forward a bit, resting his head against Raleigh’s shoulder with a sigh. He pulled away when Raleigh’s arms came up to embrace him, though.

“Should wash up first,” Chuck said. “I feel gross.”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Raleigh replied.

Chuck was halfway through soaping himself up, bending over with a handful of shower cream to get to his legs, when a jolt of pain shot through his back.

“Aah! Fuck!”

He staggered back, hands flailing, and almost slipped when Raleigh caught him.

His legs were shaking, even if the pain in his back was gone now that he was back to an upright position.

“You okay?” Raleigh asked.

Chuck met his worried gaze and frowned.

Yeah, no. He was not okay.

“Chuck…?”

It’s not like he didn’t know where that kind of pain came from, either. Fuck.

This time he didn’t bat away Raleigh’s arms when they wrapped around him. He tried really hard to bite back the surge of anger in his chest and tears stinging in his eyes and nearly succeeded.

“Let me help you,” Raleigh said, a little hesitant. Chuck nodded against his chest.

Raleigh untangled himself from Chuck and got some more shower cream on his hands. He began to soap up Chuck from scratch, starting with right hand, up his right arm; then his left hand, left arm. Chuck was kind of in a daze of how good it felt to have Raleigh’s hands on him, but this was… it wasn’t even sexual and that made him feel weird, but a good kind of weird.

Raleigh’s hands moved over his shoulders, his neck, then his chest and abdomen, and Chuck relaxed into Raleigh’s touch, leaning against the wall to stay steady on his feet. He closed his eyes, reveling in the sensations; Raleigh’s hands moved lower, but skipped past his groin, sliding down his legs instead.

And Raleigh was, well, thorough. He didn’t just slap some suds onto Chuck’s body but worked the soap into every inch of his skin, strong fingers foaming up the liquid. Even between his toes.

When Raleigh came back up his hands lingered near Chuck’s pubes, but didn’t move.

“Chuck, is it okay if I…?” Raleigh asked.

Chuck opened his eyes just a little bit. He might actually be falling asleep here. “Huh? Yeah, ‘course,” he mumbled in reply, closing his eyes again.

“Ok,” Raleigh said, and then — _finally,_ Chuck thought — Raleigh’s soap-slick hands lathered up his dick, which despite exhaustion and recent emotional upset was definitely responding to Raleigh’s touch.

But Raleigh continued to seriously wash Chuck instead, and sure, there was some stroking, and maybe Chuck let out a gasp and a whimper here and there, especially when Raleigh gently cupped his balls and washed those too. But it seemed Raleigh stayed focused on his task. It was… weird good. Still.

“Can you, uh, turn around?” Raleigh said, and he didn’t have to ask Chuck twice. Chuck placed his hands against the shower wall and stuck his ass out towards Raleigh.

Chuck groaned as Raleigh’s hands worked over his back and he spread his legs when Raleigh’s hands went lower.

Raleigh’s fingers slid from Chuck’s balls over his taint to his asshole — Chuck winced, piercing pain shooting outward, and he hissed in protest. But Raleigh hadn’t heard the noise so his fingers pressed more and—

“Ow, ow, shit— Raleigh, stop—!”

Raleigh’s hands let go of him. “S-sorry,” Raleigh stammered.

Chuck rested his head against the wall. Hannibal had done some damage, fucking sadistic bastard. It was at least some comfort that he was a bled out stinking corpse somewhere with his dick cut off.

“It’s fine,” Chuck sighed. “Just, be careful.”

He glanced over his shoulder. Raleigh looked like he’d just accidentally kicked a puppy.

“I said it’s fine,” Chuck repeated. “Nothin’ I haven’t had before.” Unfortunately.

“Okay,” Raleigh said. He licked his lips and looked a little pensive. “Then, I’ll rinse you off?”

“Yeah.”

They finished showering in silence after that, awkward tension hanging in the air between them. Only when they got to the bed Raleigh picked up the conversation.

“Uh, so…”

“Hmmm?” Chuck was a bit preoccupied burying himself in the giant bed, breathing in the fresh forest-y scent of the white sheets whilst claiming one of the big fluffy pillows.

“Did I… was that good? Did I do okay?”

Chuck paused and sat up. “Uh, what?”

Raleigh was sitting next to the bed on his knees, looking up at Chuck expectantly.

Well, shit.

He hadn’t fucking picked up on it at all, he was that tired, and Raleigh taking care of him had been nice. Probably like he’d been taught to service his owner, Chuck thought.

_His owner who is also my shitty excuse for a father._

And now Raleigh was waiting for praise, or a reward, or something.

I could make a big thing out of this, Chuck said to himself. Be all therapeutic and shit. I could tell him…

Chuck was really, really exhausted.

He patted the bed. “Yes, you were good, Raleigh, ” Chuck said.

Raleigh burst into a big smile and climbed up on the bed.

Chuck pulled a hand over his face. This was… going to be a challenge.

“Come here,” he said, lying down on his side and patting the space in front of him. Raleigh crawled up to him and curled up, his gaze still anxious, hopeful.

Chuck sighed. He knew what to do. It’s just… it was weird to do it. Usually it was the other way around. It’s like he knew exactly what the sum was, but now he was at the other part of the equation, his entire perspective different.

And embers of desire were still alight low in his belly from how Raleigh had touched him. Maybe he could just make it work for both of them.

Chuck laid a hand on Raleigh’s hip and pulled him a little closer.

“You want a reward, right?”

Raleigh nodded fervently.

Chuck licked his lips. He found himself wondering how Yancy would do this to him, and that was pretty messed up, considering. Still.

“Show me what you want, Raleigh,” Chuck said.

Raleigh’s eyes went large. Apparently he hadn’t expected as much. It made Chuck wonder how Herc had trained him— and holy shit he really did _not_ want to go there.

This was so fucked up. Here Chuck was thinking of what Raleigh’s brother would do and Raleigh was maybe thinking about what Chuck’s father would do. Jesus.

Still though.

“O… okay,” Raleigh replied. After his initial excitement a deep flush of embarrassment rose to his cheeks and he scooted back.

Raleigh turned around, sat down on elbows and knees, and propped his ass up towards Chuck.

Chuck’s mouth went dry.

“Um,” he began, not sure where to continue from there.

_Raleigh wants me to fuck him?_

Chuck wasn’t sure he had the energy left for that.

Which was oddly the first thought he had about the matter, before he realized that he’d never fucked anyone before.

Despite going through years of sexual assault, abuse, slave training and psychological torture, Chuck had always been on the receiving end of things. They had somehow never made him fuck someone or something else.

Chuck’s chest felt unexpectedly tight at that.

It was something he still had for himself. Something that hadn’t been taken from him, hadn’t been sullied and corrupted and used. It was something he could experience for himself, the way he wanted.

He looked at Raleigh, who was glancing back at him anxiously.

He licked his lips and shuffled over towards Raleigh on his knees, reaching for the bottle of lube on the nightstand midway. Good old PPDC, prepared for anything.

Chuck placed his hands on Raleigh’s hips. Despite losing a lot of muscle mass, Raleigh was still very attractive, especially with his ass up in the air like this, the way it made his lower back dimple, the way his cock and balls hung low between his legs, the soft pink of his hole…

The possibility of him fucking someone else had flung open a door in Chuck’s mind and body he hadn’t even known existed. Desire washed over him in thick waves and his hands dug into Raleigh’s flesh.

Chuck was reeling a little. He was thinking things and feeling things he’d never quite thought or felt before and it was slightly overwhelming.

Raleigh arched his back, rolling his ass up towards Chuck, letting out a little whine.

 _Jesus fucking Christ_.

Chuck reached for the bottle of lube, slicked up his fingers, and traced them up Raleigh’s taint to press against his asshole.

“You were so good, Raleigh,” Chuck repeated his earlier statement. He knew how important praise was.

Raleigh whined, hole twitching against Chuck’s fingers. He was trying to just fuck himself on Chuck’s digits, apparently.

Chuck didn’t press in quite yet, and moved closer to Raleigh, leaning forward to curve over him. Raleigh was still taller, so Chuck couldn’t quite get to his neck, but almost.

“You were such a good boy for me,” Chuck whispered, his heart doing a minor backflip at daring to say those words, and then he pushed his index finger inside Raleigh.

Raleigh moaned, loudly, and Chuck felt the shudder of pleasure going through Raleigh’s body reverberate against his chest. The sounds Raleigh was making were affecting him, too. His erection was riding up against the back of Raleigh’s thigh.

 _I could fuck him,_ Chuck thought. _I could probably slip right in, he’s so loose already._

Chuck dipped in a second finger, eliciting another moan from Raleigh, and he began to fuck Raleigh with his fingers.

He wasn’t exactly new to this, at least; some of his clients had liked a finger or two up their ass when Chuck sucked them off.

But Raleigh was really, really hot inside, spasming around Chuck’s fingers, like he wanted to draw them deeper; he was so soft, like velvet, and his hole made slick sounds from the lube as Chuck thrust his digits in and out.

Chuck was holding his breath, amazed at these sensations, the feeling of Raleigh writhing underneath him. It was all strange and new and actually, really fucking hot.

_They couldn’t take this from me. This is mine._

Chuck twisted his fingers, pulled them almost all the way out before tucking in a third digit and thrusting back in.

“Chuck,” Raleigh whined. “It’s so good, thank you Chuck…”

Chuck spurted precome all over Raleigh’s hip at that. Jesus _fuck_.

He was getting a little dizzy, but in a good way, like he was drunk. The way Raleigh had said _thank you_ was doing things to Chuck. His heart thumped against his ribcage like it was trying to pound itself a way out and he was so, so freaking hard, rutting against Raleigh’s asscheek.

Chuck groaned as he wrapped a hand around his own cock, panting heavily. “Such a good boy, Raleigh,” Chuck repeated.

He pushed his fingers in as deep as they would go and then slowly slid them out, crooking them downwards to find Raleigh’s prostate.

Raleigh cried out in pleasure when Chuck’s fingers rubbed hard over the sensitive spot inside him. “More, more, please!”

The words went straight to Chuck’s cock so much he almost came right there. “Jesus, Raleigh,” Chuck gasped, hand tightening around his own dick. He hadn’t known what it was like. To have someone thank you and say please and beg.

Chuck zeroed in on Raleigh’s prostate, fingers sliding over the nub relentlessly, reducing Raleigh to a whining, crying mess underneath him.

“Please can I come, please, Daddy—”

Chuck was coming before he even realized what Raleigh had said, his body reacting long before his mind came around. For a blissful few seconds his nerves were molten pleasure and he gasped as he spurted come all over Raleigh’s ass and back.

It took him a minute or two to gather his wits and only then he noticed Raleigh was still squirming, balls heavy, clearly on the edge of coming himself.

There was a thundering noise in Chuck’s ears.

“ _What_ did you call me, Raleigh?”

Raleigh’s squirming stopped.  

Chuck felt like someone had punched the air out of his lungs. “Were you thinking of… of Herc? My old man?” His voice came out a great deal shakier than he wanted.

_Please say no please say no_

Raleigh was silent, but Chuck saw his fingers digging into the sheets. And he still had his own fingers up Raleigh’s ass.

Chuck slowly began to slide them out, careful not to stimulate Raleigh too much.

Raleigh reached his arm back towards Chuck and gripped his wrist. “Chuck— I… I’m sorry,” Raleigh said in barely more than a whisper.

Chuck didn’t really know how to answer that. He had this horrible sinking feeling in his stomach when just moments ago he’d felt pure pleasure. This _really_ fucking sucked.

Raleigh shuffled around on his hands and knees until he faced Chuck, except he was still looking away, gaze focused on his hands instead.

“I wasn’t… thinking of him, not really,” Raleigh began.

“Uh-huh,” Chuck replied, trying to not let his voice waver this time. He still wasn’t sure he could breathe properly. This feeling was the opposite of pleasure. It, it fucking _hurt_ . And Chuck figured he was used to being hurt, but, this was different. This was almost worse. What if, the whole time, Raleigh had been thinking about Herc instead and Chuck was just some kind of _stand-in_ for his own father? He just wanted to crawl into a hole and die if that was the case.

“It’s just that, you maybe don’t see it yourself, but…” Raleigh went on, Chuck only hearing half of it, “... you kind of look a lot like him, and, but you’re also still you, and… it’s confusing for me too.”

Chuck had that familiar sensation of drawing away from the moment, which honestly was perfectly fine by him. This was awful and he felt awful.

Raleigh grabbed his hand again. “Chuck, it’s _you_ , okay? I want… _you_. Right now, you, not… not Herc.” Raleigh squeezed his hand. “Please talk to me?”

Chuck couldn’t ignore that plea, not in that voice, and when he met Raleigh’s gaze, certainly not with those big blue teary eyes. _Dammit._

“This is a fucking mess,” Chuck managed to say. His voice almost cracked.

Some of the stuff Raleigh had said was starting to filter through. “But you still want me?”

“Yes,” Raleigh replied, empathetically. “ _Yes._ ” And then, a bit more desperately, “Please, Chuck.”

Chuck figured he shouldn’t be so easy for those two words, but he wasn’t Yancy, he didn’t have the discipline to hold back when he was being begged or whatever.

He grabbed Raleigh’s face with both hands and kissed him, hard.

Chuck's kiss was forceful, needy, shoving himself into Raleigh's space. And Raleigh toppled over, letting himself fall on his back and pulling in Chuck on top of him.

Chuck dove into the wetness of Raleigh's mouth, his tongue licking at Raleigh's lips, seeking entrance. He shuddered as Raleigh easily opened up to him, just as eager as Chuck, arms wrapping around him.

Raleigh was still hard as a rock, dick rubbing against Chuck's abdomen, and Chuck himself was stirring again. With considerable effort he managed to tear himself away from Raleigh's mouth to gaze at him. Chuck ran a hand down Raleigh's neck, his chest, thumbed his nipple. Raleigh squirmed and gave him a desperate look.

"Chuck..."

With the way Raleigh was splayed out before him, legs spread and ass propped up, Chuck didn't have to guess what Raleigh wanted from him.

He knew Raleigh was open and willing... but Chuck still wasn't sure. He frowned, sliding his hands down Raleigh's abs.

Raleigh bit his lip. "Chuck... I want you," he repeated. "I want to be good for you, please."

Blood rushed to Chuck's cock so fast he went dizzy. His hands twitched, digging into Raleigh's flesh, and got a groan in response. Raleigh's cock dribbled out some precome onto his right thumb just where it was positioned under Raleigh's bellybutton.

"Sssshh, yeah," Chuck husked, moving his hand lower to trace over Raleigh's cock with his thumb. "Yeah, you're so good, Ray."

He didn't know where this was coming from, but he didn't want to stop. He was drunk with desire, his head buzzing, heat simmering under his skin. He brought his hands underneath Raleigh's thighs, and lifted his legs up and apart. It was like Raleigh weighed nothing and Chuck could easily heft him around. Somewhere Chuck was wondering what was going on but he was too far gone, responding to Raleigh's plea like a switch in his head had been flipped, like he was beyond the event horizon of a gravity well, being pulled inwards.

His fingers dipped into Raleigh's hole, and Raleigh threw his head back with a whimper. "Yes," he gasped, shivering with want, his toes curled inwards. Chuck felt Raleigh's twitch around his digits, drawing him in, needy.

Chuck curved over Raleigh. Time felt like it had slowed to a crawl as he reached for the lube, squeezed out a glob, coated his dick in the slick substance.

"Raleigh," he gasped, positioning himself at Raleigh's entrance. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. Then he looked at Raleigh with some hesitation. "Gonna be my first, you know."

Raleigh answered Chuck's hesitant look with a brilliant smile. He reached out a hand and cupped Chuck's jaw. "You're so good for me too, Chuck."

Weirdly, Chuck felt his eyes sting at that. He was so tired. He was so, so tired. All he wanted was to be good, for things to be good, but they never were. And Raleigh understood. Nobody else did. Only Raleigh.

Chuck lowered himself over Raleigh, hips snapping forward, and slid inside him.

Raleigh was _so hot_. So freaking hot, and soft, and slick. "Raleigh," Chuck gasped, over and over, like a mantra. "Raleigh, Raleigh..."

"I know," Raleigh whispered. His arms and legs wrapped around Chuck, drawing him in. "I told you I'd take care of you."

Chuck didn't know anymore whether Raleigh was taking care of him or he was taking care of Raleigh. It didn't matter. Right now they were connected, so tight and intimate. He rocked his hips back and forth almost instinctively, chasing the pleasure he felt building low in his abdomen. Raleigh's heat gripped his cock like a vise, and the warmth spread from there to Chuck's whole body. It felt incredible.

He sensed Raleigh tighten underneath him, thighs tensing around Chuck's waist. Chuck thrust forward a little harder and Raleigh whined. "Please—"

He didn't have to ask. "Yes," Chuck gasped, "You can come, Raleigh, do it."

Raleigh moaned as he started to come, arching up into Chuck, cock spurting hot come over his belly. His hole spasmed around Chuck's dick from the orgasm and Chuck shuddered. "Fuck—!" He was so close himself, and he pumped into Raleigh desperately.

He felt Raleigh's hand weave into his hair. "So good, Chuck," Raleigh said, his voice thick and breathy. It was the last push Chuck needed and he tipped over the edge, coming inside of Raleigh with a long moan.

The sex and the orgasm had sapped the last of his energy, and Chuck flopped down on top of Raleigh. A smile played across his lips, and he wanted to say something, but his body was too heavy, too worn out, and Raleigh wonderfully warm. Chuck didn’t even mind the stickiness. He could just sleep right there. So he didn’t protest when Raleigh shifted, laid him down on his back, and came back several minutes later with a hot, damp towel. Chuck barely even registered it. The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was warmth wrapping around him, the scent of fresh sheets, and the scent of Raleigh.

For the first time in a long time, Chuck fell asleep feeling safe, comfortable, and cared for.

* * *

Stacker hadn't left Herc's side since they arrived. He'd take the necessary time to eat, drink, sleep. But even his morning kata he'd practice right there in the medical ward.

Tamsin wondered what he was trying to prove. They had left the idea of guilt behind a long time ago, just like honor. Maybe he just wanted to be the first thing Herc saw when he woke up.

For now, they were keeping him in an artificial coma until they could fully remove the kaiju implants. Stacker had Tamsin and Hermann work all day and most of the night for that too, but there was only so much they could do in a day before wearing out the endurance of Herc's own body. His human body.

Herc had been lucky enough that Cheung had sliced right through what they thought must be a secondary brain of sorts, adapted to work with human physiology. It no longer worked, but its alien nerves were still tangled throughout Herc's body, and they'd found traces of alien neurons all the way in his brain and pinky fingers. The last surgery they'd done was a couple of days ago — they'd been able to remove the claws and slowly Herc's reflexes in his hand were coming back, even with the stitched-up hole that one of the Weis had made in it.

Tamsin was working on a compound that might flush out more of the neurons, but it was risky. Herman was studying and experimenting on tissue samples to get the nerve tendrils to shrink. Neither of them truly knew what they were doing — this was the first time they were working with _living_ kaiju tissue. It was also a huge opportunity that was teaching them a lot about their opponents. It would've been a lot more helpful if they had been able to capture Geiszler, or even what had been left of the Gages; but there had been no time for that.

They had lots of time now, though.

The Shatterdome had been destroyed, and their operational force decimated. The organisations which had thrown their financial support behind the PPDC weren't quick to resupply them, but were giving them what they needed right now; a place of solace with as much laboratory and surgical equipment as they could spare, and the security to protect it. No guns or patrols; just tech, and solitude.

Manila, Tamsin thought. Of all the places Stacker could've picked as the Pitfall recovery location.

Things had been a lot different the last time she was here. When all of them were here. Stacker, Herc, Vic, Gunnar. And Luna. Shore leave, right before — before everything had gone to hell, really.

Herc was recovering today, so Tamsin had decided to leave the villa and go for a long walk. It wasn't far from here; Stacker, for all his practicality and steel discipline, also had a flair for the dramatic. Tamsin knew he'd had the villa built years ago, after he'd bought the land and destroyed the resort that had been there. The resort they'd spent shore leave at. It really was so poetic it almost made her cringe.

There wasn't a lot that marked Luna's grave, but the five rocks were still there where they had left them. Tamsin sat down in front of it, legs crossed, and touched the now moss-covered rocks with the tips of her fingers.

Luna wasn't below her in the ground, Tamsin knew. Back then they hadn't known, though. They'd stood here, hand in hand, saying their words. Even though it had all felt like a lie afterwards, this had still become Tamsin's place of returning to her, because there wasn't any other.

"Luna," Tamsin said. "I'm sorry it's been a while. Stacks and me, we've been working hard. You wouldn't be proud of us at all, would you? You'd yell at us for everything we've done."

Tamsin sighed. What the hell was she saying, anyway? But nobody here could hear it, and even her shoulders had started to feel heavy after all this, and she needed to say these things to someone.

"But we're getting closer," she continued. "We took down one of their kingpins. It'll be tough even for them to rebuild—"

She cut herself off. This wasn't a mission report. Or it wasn't supposed to be. Her brow knotted together. Even when Luna wasn't here she couldn't talk to her like a normal person.

"But then, I'm hardly a normal person," Tamsin muttered to herself.

She sighed and got up, dusting the dirt and leaves off her slacks. She took another sigh and gazed on those rocks.

"We'll find you. No matter what, we'll find you, Luna."


End file.
